So here I sit, not sure why exactly, but since I began documenting my journey this way, I suppose that this is the way that it should end. I must admit that at this point, I've been drinking way more than I should, but as I am not drunk yet, I can finish this without worrying too much about my grammar or about my uncensored thoughts.
SO, this morning, at 4 am, after 3 hours of sleep, yes, three hours of sleep; I got up, got ready and ventured out into the 40 degree weather to wait for a bus to take me to Staten Island. After falling asleep on the bus and then waiting in the UNICEF tent until our start time, I was in the pleasant position of meeting some new people and discussing marathon issues with the organizers of the event. With a 10:40 start time, and after having to wait almost 6 hours to start, I was having mixed feelings about the whole New York marathon. But when I saw the second wave of runners crossing the Verrazano bridge, my heart kind of leapt in my chest a bit. Watching the two levels of runners take off into the now 30 degree weather with a wind chill factor which plummented the weather into the below zero category...
After meeting Elsy from Venezuela, who now lives in New York, we dropped off our things and headed to the start line. We only ran together for about a mile because she was much faster than I am, but it was nice to meet someone new and to have someone to chat with before we set off on our journey.
The race began and the first 5 or 6 miles were about warming up. I usually struggle during the first few miles at least until I start sweating. Normally, the first 3 miles are the most painful, but this time, after the bridge, coming into Brooklyn... I didn't even have the chance to think about starting out because the crowds that lined the street were unlike anything that I've ever seen or experienced. At every mile throughout the race, on both sides of the streets were New Yorkers who carried most of us through the day. The energy and the enthusiasm of these people was like a wave of comfort for us as the miles progressed. Cheers and shouts of encouragement and the high fives, snacks, music and the constant repitition of things like "Go Yvette" or "Looking good" not only encouraged me, but made me want to continue. Over 2 million people came out today to see the marathon and to cheer on the participants, to sing, to wave signs to laugh, to thank us for being there...
And so I ran, strong for the first 13 miles, over 3 bridges, through three burroughs and to the chants and cheers of hundreds of thousands of New Yorkers. I called my friend, who flew in just for the race and I told her that I needed help and so, coming across yet another bridge, at mile 13.5, there she was; her smiling face and she was waiting to crash the course and help me finish the race. And so, she fell in step with me and we plundered along the miles. At one point, I had to hold onto her arm because I felt dizzy and she was there. She understands the intensity that is involved in a process like a marathon. I told her that I didn't want to talk and she completely understood; she was just there and there she stayed until mile 26 when they kicked her off the course for not having a bib number.
Miles 17-20 and 21-25 were the worst today; continued inclines and cold weather and hurt feet combined to make a difficult experience. Painful and tiring and exhausting; of course, there were moments when I wanted to quit, but I tried to think about the race in terms of just one more mile. I never looked at the race like 26.2; instead I just kept telling myself, "One more mile" and when 2 became 3 and 16 became 17, it seemed a bit easier, not much mind you, but it helped me to keep it in perspective. At one point I saw a sign that read, "Your feet hurt because you're kicking ASS!" Indeed...
At mile 16, my brother Steve, my sister Christine and her boyfriend John were waiting and it was empowering to see them, waving, high fiving them and then, we were off again. I know at some point around mile 18 I told Rosh that I was done with marathons; that I was going to stick with halves from then on. Mile 18 is a bitch of a mile because you know that you still have 8 more to go; not 3, not 5, but almost 10 and, if you're not a bred runner (hello), this is where every part of your body starts to say, "If you don't stop now, we're going to crush you with pain." Lovely the thoughts that you entertain as you plunder ahead, forging a path of both misery and joy.
Miles 19-22 had moments of laughter and dancing, raising my hands up and smiling at the kids who were jumping up and down as Beyonce played in the background. I loved that people were shouting things like "You can't quit, you're running the New York marathon for Christ's sake" or, "Think about what got you here" or, my personal favorite, "You're almost there!" Never say that to a runner, never...
At mile 25, I was hurting so badly; everything, legs, knees, feet, back and I just wanted to cross the finish line so I took off, running as fast as I could, which wasn't all that fast at this point. I crossed the mile 26 sign and I saw the Finish line and I held it together long enough to cross and when I did, it was a huge sigh of relief and exhaustion and happiness and joy and when I stood up and one of the volunteers put the medal around my neck, it just happened. Tears began to roll down my cheeks and I wasn't sure if they were from relief or happiness or pain, but I was thrilled to have finished the New York marathon and I was even more thrilled to have finished strong. I hobbled over to have my picture taken and to collect my things and then I headed to the subway to meet my friends...
Now we sit, after a great dinner, drinking too much and laughing and having a conversation with too much sexual innuendo, enjoying our time together before we fly home on Tuesday. I am reminded of what I liked the most about going out with friends and having a good time and being irresponsible and enjoying victories. Life is good...
Mile 18: I said I was done with marathons, that the distance is just too long, but now, after having stepped back and after feeling proud of myself for today, I just might... well, let's just see how hungover I am tomorrow. What happens in New York stays in New York... 5:47:26 I'll never forget this experience...
No comments:
Post a Comment