New York City Marathon (Page 3)
Sunday, November 7, 1999Race report for Glenn's fifth marathon...
Date: Sat Nov 13, 1999
Subject: On the wings of penguins (NYCM 99)
Marathon Day @ 1:40 p.m.
Pulaski Bridge entering QueensBefore you leave Brooklyn, the last thing you see is a medical station. It reminded me to keep listening to my body and re-evaluating my pace and condition. I began a slow climb up the second bridge of the course--the Pulaski bridge--that leads to the third borough of the race: Queens. I turned my attention to the back of a singlet of a man in front of me: "50 STATES AND D.C." I guessed he was about 5 feet tall, late 50-ish, brown-skinned and greying on the scalp. I knew this guy.
I ran up beside him and asked, "Remember me?" He did. It was the third time I met Jose during a race. He was a member of the exclusive "50 states and D.C." club, whom I first met in 1998 at the San Francisco Marathon and again last summer in Chicago at the Distance Classic 20K (RunLiz: remember?).
We were 100 metres from the half-marathon point and I asked if I could get a photo with him. "Of course!" he replied. I was running a faster pace, so we wished each other good luck and I pulled ahead. As I left, I said, "I'll see you again." I probably will. (Update: In October 2000, Jose ran his 100th marathon! He's still going strong!)
As I pass the aid stations, I make sure to thank all the volunteers: water people, Gatorade people, the people sweeping up. "Good work, guys! I really appreciate it." I take water from the smallest kids. I want to be sure that their efforts are noticed. A woman runs next to me and asks me what my plan is. I tell her that I'm running 9 minutes and walking 2. She asks if she can join me and I agree, BUT that I wouldn't push my running pace any harder. Eventually, she realizes that I'm not going at the pace she likes and she leaves me. I had to draw the line somewhere. I have to run on my own terms.
It's less noisy. There are fewer crowds. And for the first time this race, I see people packing up. I've expended too much energy cheering in Brooklyn, so I stay silent for the first time during the race. I'm saving my energy. For what, exactly? I don't know.
* * * * *
Marathon Day @ 3:00 p.m.
The Queensboro BridgeIt's arguably the toughest section of the New York City Marathon. The Queensboro bridge. Nearly a mile long. A rise of nearly 150 feet. Finish it and you'll hear the screams of specatators in Manhattan. Until you get there, though, the only stimulation is the traffic, your fellow runners, and the occasional SUV with its stereo blasting and windows open.
I didn't realize it was a bridge until I was a quarter-mile across it. I looked around me and everyone was walking. The guy wearing the Superman costume. Another with the Guyanese flag on his singlet. They were all walking and I was running ahead. I pass at least 100 runners in the span of a couple of minutes.
It's a straight incline, no dips or bumps, but after a half-mile, you begin asking, "When will this end?" You finally notice the East River underneath. I thank myself for all those mile repeats in the hilly terrain behind the Toronto Zoo. At the crest, I take a walk break. I've increased my walking to 3 minutes and reduced my running to 8 minutes. Soon everyone around me starts running again to take advantage of the downhill. We pass the 25km marker and a steep downhill takes us to the promised land...
* * * * *
Marathon Day @ 2:30 p.m.
Manhattan's First AvenueIt's as good as promised.
When I bought the application, this was the picture that intrigued me most. Hundreds of runners filing down First Avenue, while spectators, many deep, cheered on. Penguins, runners from Toronto, books... All these sources said the same thing: Be prepared to hit a wall of sound.
A quick series of right hand turns and I had to stop at a row of port-o-potties underneath a bridge. I screamed under the bridge as Kelly in Toronto had taught me three weeks ago at the Canadian International Marathon.
On both sides of the First Avenue, thousands of spectators filled the sidewalks. Many carried signs for individual runners, but almost everyone cheered for anyone who showed interest in the crowd. For example, there were plenty of bars along this stretch. Here's my yelling match with a drunk, who was holding a glass of beer at the same time:
"YOU ROCK!"
"NO! YOU ROCK!!"
"NO!! YOU ROCK!!!"
"YEAH!"
"YEAH!!!"
"ARGHHHHHHH!!!!"
"ARGHHHHHHH!!!!"It was easy to get a response. I used lines like: "I heard that there were some noisy fans here!" and "The people in Brooklyn said they were the loudest fans on the course!" I high-fived as many people as I could, especially the children. Sometimes I stopped and made sure I got everyone.
I was holding steady, but I had to be diligent. Take in water and Gatorade every stop. Take a PowerGel every hour. Once the crowds thinned out, I became more quiet. I had to reserve my energy for the final 10K.
At mile 18, a young woman ran up to us with a cellular phone in hand. "Hi," she began, "I'm from Sprint. If you want, you can make a free call to anyone in the continental United States." A woman next to me phoned her mother in Illinois: "Hi Mom! I'm running the New York City Marathon <pause> Yeah, right now!" I begged the Sprint lady although she couldn't: "C'mon, let me make ONE phone call to Canada!"
Before mile 19, a black woman on the Upper East Side stood on the side of the road with her mother and child. She held her hand out to the runners and I gave her a high-five. With a huge smile, she told me: "There's some marathon power for you!" I returned the smile, ten-fold.
* * * * *
Marathon Day @ 3:15 p.m.
The Bronx & HarlemWe cross the Willis Ave. bridge and enter The Bronx. 20 miles. And I'm on target for 5:30 gun time. I need more walking breaks and I decide to switch from 8/3 to 7/4. It's humbling--I've never walked so much in a marathon.
A mile into the Bronx on 138th Street, I meet Kelie and Diane again, the two ladies I spoke with at the starting line. Kelie looks strong. Diane seems to be struggling. For the next two miles, we play tortoise and hare. They leave my sight on my walking break, but I'm kicking ass on the run, catching up with them and even passing them. I see the same group of people as they pass me and as I pass them.
Across the Madison Ave. bridge and back into Manhattan. If I can remain at my pace, I'll pass lots of people. But it's getting tougher. Crowds are sparse and not very enthusiastic. A guy is sitting down in a recliner selling furniture along the curb. No cheering, just watching.
At the 35 km mark, I'm still on track for 5:30. But I'm still struggling to take in water and Gatorade. I take a cup of each, alternate sipping between them, and throw them both away when they're still half-full. I can't stomach more. Left: I finally sense the beginning of the end: I see the tree-lined fringe of Fifth Avenue. The avenue is starting to roll and I attack every hill, passing dozens of runners. Then, on my right, I see the first Penguin since Brooklyn: It's Ron Horton, who is acting as an Achilles guide. We quickly exchange words of encouragement and Ron snaps a photo of me right before I tackle the final challenge: Central Park.
* * * * * Marathon Day @ 3:45 p.m.
Central ParkA short burst uphill and I'm in Central Park. I see the 23 mile marker: 4:55. Fall colours. And thousands of spectators behind the steel barricades. For the last hour, I've used a 7 min run/4 min walk pattern. It's keeping me upright. But now everything's changed. It's no longer physical fatigue. I'm overwhelmed by the cheering. With every step I take, I hear my name: "You can do it, Glenn!" "Go Glenn!" "Nice job Glenn!" "Looking strong, Glenn!"
I am so close to crying.
I have never received so much encouragement in my entire life. Every emotion that I've felt in every race I've ever run bubbles to the surface.
"Why are you doing this race, Glenn?"
"Who am I to deserve your applause?"
"I wish I could return your cheers... I'm so tired."
"When will this be over? Where's the finish line?"
"Thank you."Tears try to break through, but I'm too tired to cry.
At this point, I'm still running 7 minutes and walking 4. I've never walked this much in a marathon. The spectators are shouting, "You can do it! Hold on!" I want so badly to run, but I've hit a wall. I don't think it's the proverbial "wall," though. I'm emotionally exhausted.
They say that New York City brings out the best and the worst in people. On this day, I had an entire city of Penguins behind me. I finished the race on their wings.
* * * * *
I hear an anxious, "Glenn! Glenn!" It's my host, Plat, and his friend, Francis. He gets a picture with me and asks me how I'm doing. I'm still struggling, but I say, "I'm tired, but I'm okay." He offers me Gatorade and water, but I say no thanks. He says, "You're almost there, Glenn!" and for the first time this race, I believe it.
With less than a mile to go, I saw a man come from behind the barricade to run alongside me. It was John, the Penguin himself. He asked me how I was doing and I said that it was tough. I tried to offer an explanation, but the words came out mangled. I couldn't compose a coherent thought. I was focused on finishing the race. John and I ran step-by-step, side-by-side for a couple of hundred yards. I regained my rhythm. Left. Left. Right. Right. Synchronicity. And just at the point when I was again in fluid motion, John ducked back behind the barricades before 57th street at the southern edge of the park. It was up to me to finish the race.
On the left, barricades were lined with spectators. I noticed that the runners kept along the curb, while the fans were halfway across the street. I made up my mind to run beside the barricade and feed off the marathon power of the crowd: "Looking good!" "Good pace!" "Go Glenn!" "You can do it, Glenn!" Any intention of walking left my mind. I was in the zone. I was passing people reduced to walking. My mind was telling my body to stop, but something deeper than my thoughts kept me moving forward.
I climbed the last hill, the same hill I climbed a day ago in the International Friendship Run. The stands were full of spectators. I pointed to the sky repeatedly. Number one. Thanks to God. I heard my name over and over again. I wouldn't break 5:30, but I would come close. I looked in front of me and there was only one runner in my vicinity. I slowed down 20 metres from the finish line and let him go first. Then I did what I had planned, something that I visualized before I had even stepped on New York soil:
I had both arms out to my sides like an eagle in flight, palms open, while I raised my head up, eyes closed, breathed deeply, and embraced everything around me.
I accepted my medal, refused an emergency blanket, and began the long trek through the finishers chute.
* * * * *
Marathon Day @ 4:30 p.m.
The Finish Line ChutesThe end is the beginning. The beginning is the end. It happened after I crossed the finish line. As I walked through the mile-long finishers' chute, I turned to my fellow runners and congratulated them. Most smiled. Others said thanks. Some ignored me. I walked up to a woman in her forties, one of many wrapped in a printed emergency blanket. "Congratulations," I said. She smiled. I asked her, "Is this your first one?" She kept looking straight ahead as tears welled in her eyes. I rubbed her shoulder. I understood.
* * * * *
Post-Marathon
It took another mile before we picked up our sweats bags and entered the family area. I was tired and alone when a man walked up to me and congratulated me. Apparently, I talked to him during the marathon and here he was thanking me. I couldn't remember meeting this gentleman during the race (actually, I was so tired that I couldn't remember much), but I accepted his thanks graciously. I walked to the finish line stands and spent a half-hour cheering runners before the 6:30 pace car drove in. One of those runners was Charlotte Penguin Jane Fraytet. I yelled, "PENGUINS!", but she couldn't hear me. She was definitely in the zone.
I return to Long Island City for the last time. As a thank-you gift, I give Plat a triathlon book (one of his goals is to complete Ironman Hawaii). He says, "Maybe we can run New York together someday." I smile.
I have dinner with Jane, John B, and Kecia and her dad at the City Grill. I'm still a little nauseous from the race, but manage to finish my dinner (a turkey special--definitely no more pasta). "This distance humbles you," Kecia says. She's right.
Soon the five of us are taking the Red Line downtown. I'm carrying my 50-pound backpack on the subway train, making my way to the Port Authority Bus Terminal. As I say my goodbyes on the train, someone asks me if I'll be attending Myrtle Beach, Vermont City or Marine Corps.
I don't know when my next encounter will be, but I'm looking forward to it already.
* * * * *
Thank you for reading. What I've learned from New York is this: Being a Penguin is not really about being a runner. A Penguin is, in the end, someone who cares.
Godspeed!
* * * * *
Subject: 1999 NYCM Penguin Lists
Fellow flightless fowl...
[Okay, I didn't put EVERYTHING in my New York race report!!! Here's a couple of lists meant to make you smile...]
Top 8 1999 NYCM Penguin Inside Jokes:
1. Bladderwanda
2. Getting hit on the head by a plastic double magnum of champagne at Padrone
3. "Wish you were here... SUCKERS!!!"
4. "That's the way the blintz IS!"
5. "Why is NYCE spelled with no periods?"
6. The shattered glass corner at Intermezzo
7. The "Kecia Special": Gu & Ibuprofen (maybe we should call it "Special K"?)
8. "This candy is hard!" "Ohmigod! That's Becky!!!!!!!"Top 6 Spectator Handouts:
1. Oranges
2. Vaseline
3. Hard candy
4. Paper towels
5. Chewing gum (Juicyfruit!)
6. WaterTop 5 Difficult Sections of the Course:
1. Queensboro Bridge (the neverending uphill)
2. Harlem (fewest spectators)
3. The second bridge (half-marathon point, uphill)
4. Rolling hills of Central Park (incl. the one before the finish line)
5. The BronxTop 5 Cheering Sections:
1. First Avenue
2. Brooklyn's Fourth Avenue
3. Central Park, esp. 72nd Street, the southern perimeter
4. The fans in the stands at Tavern on the Green, near the end
5. (Honourable Mention) The brownstone in Brooklyn holding a "blocko" with about 100 fans, awesome music and (ahem) beverages.Top 5 Booths at the NYCM Expo:
1. Brooks (I admit my bias here: I wear Addictions. But they gave me a lanyard AND a water bottle)
2. Comrades (The "Boston" of ultramarathons, held in South Africa)
3. New Balance (free use of treadmill, video of '99 Chicago Marathon, Marathon world record holder Khalid Khannouchi signing autographs)
4. Runner's World (Beautiful NYCM postcards, The Penguin himself!, Susan Lindfors--remember Boston Flight School '98?)
5. Paragon Sports (THEM: "Would you like a bag to hold everything?" ME: "No thanks" THEM: "I think you need a bag to hold all that stuff" ME: "That's okay" THEM: "Here, let me help you with that!" ME: "That's okay, really!" THEM: "How's that?" ME: "Hmm... Not bad")Godspeed!
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