The alarm went off at 3:30 am. Sarah woke with me and helped get me out the door. Folks at Team Boomer really emphasized making race day as stress free as possible and I had tried to have everything ready to go the night prior. This was definitely the right approach as getting out of the apartment was no trouble at all. It was pretty chilly out in the morning and I was bundled up in sweats when I left Sarah's. I dropped into an all night bar and coffee house at around 5:00 for a coffee to go. It was full of partiers from the night before dressed in Halloween garb, eating their drunken eggs and bacon, some still working on beers. They all seemed genuinely confused that a man could be up and preparing to go for a run at such an hour. From there I hailed a cab down to Central Park South where I was to board a Team Boomer charter bus that would take us to Staten Island. As I exited the cab and began to walk across the street a cyclist, out early for her morning ride, recognized me as a marathoner and wished me luck. The positive energy put a smile on my face.
I had hoped to catch a few extra minutes of sleep on the bus, but the nerves and good will text messages that started coming in before 6am did not allow for this. The sun was still making its way up into the sky as we crossed the Verrazano and arrived at Fort Wadsworth around 7:30. Team Boomer provided a comfortable tent in the charity village where the 85+ members were able to find shelter from the wind and cold and prepare in comfort. There was a lot of conversation among the folks strewn out across the ground in the tent, but I opted mostly for ear-plug mode and tried to zone into some good music to help me focus.
In what seemed like only minutes the time had come for me to check my bag and head to my corral. I was set to begin running in the second wave which went off at 10:05 am. All runners had to be in the corral by 9:35 or so. There was an endless line of port-a-poddies inside the corral offering a last chance to take care of business before the gun. After capitalizing on this opportunity I used the remaining time to continue to stretch. From the corral we saw the first wave go off and watched them trot above us across both the upper and lower levels of the bridge. Sinatra's "New York, New York" came on over the big PA system which put another smile on my face. Soon after, we began to move up towards the finish line. This was the first time in my life I'd found myself in a crowd of individuals that were about to run a marathon. I was surprised by the relaxed mood of the majority of the people, many of whom were smiling and chatting. I think I was able to feed off that energy and relax myself which really allowed me to take in the moment.
Knowing that the race was about to begin was a great feeling. I was excited but there were very few nerves. The moment was a long time coming and I was just happy to have completed my training, met my fundraising goal, and proved to myself that I had the guts to get to the starting line. My body felt good - no recent aches or pains - and I felt ready to begin a long race. I shed my sweatshirt layers, threw them to the side to be collected for donation, and walked beyond the gate towards the finish line. The crowd seemed to quiet down a bit now, a collective realization that a difficult task lay ahead. Game faces were on. This was it.
And after a few more moments we too were a-pace to the sound of Sinatra. This turned out to be the most emotional moment of the race for me. It was the only time I had to fight off tears. I was there not to post a super competitive time, but simply to show myself and others that I could go out and complete this thing. And with those first few paces it was immediately apparent to myself that I was doing so. Those strides across the Verrazano, packed in amid thousands of other runners, are something I will never forget.
The bridge was something of a slow calibration period for most people, I think - an opportunity to get a feel for things. Everyone is running slowly at that point because of the limited space (I ran a 10:30 in the first mile, well above my target pace of 8:55-9:05). And despite it being a moving mass of people, its quiet. It was more of a time to settle into that subdued mental place that is required of a sustained effort. Go to zero. And hopefully you've tapped into your inner fortitude and found your comfort zone before spilling out onto the streets of Brooklyn, because when you do its no longer quiet and you can not possibly ignore the influence of the crowd. Which is not a bad thing. The crowd starts as a trickle just after the bridge but quickly turns to a stream and then a torrent of people lining the streets. The cultural diversity of New York is on full display as the predominant ethnicity changes as one runs through the different neighborhoods. I often found the outstretched hands of kids looking for high fives irresistible.
Not too far into the neighborhoods of Brooklyn, maybe about mile 3, someone came up behind me and smacked me on the shoulder and said, "hey!" It was a friend from high school, Lisanne. She had alerted me on Facebook that she would be running and at about the same pace as me. We were both very happy to see one another and ended up running the next 10 miles together, chatting and giving one another encouragement along the way. We talked training, and strategy, and made general observations about the crowd and about life. I have been struck more than once that the community of marathon runners is a very real one. Everyone who runs seems to be extremely supportive of every one else, regardless of skill level, and always willing to share helpful information. Lisanne (who would go on to smoke my time) and I were separated at a water stop somewhere in Queens. The crowd was still dense and it was easy to lose someone in the fray. I was on my own again.
It was shortly after this that some of my troubles began. Pain began to set in in my right calf and knee, eventually working its way up to my hip. I wasn't pleased about this, but I wasn't shocked or worried yet either as these had been mild trouble points along the way during training. I was wearing a patella support band on my right knee because of pain experienced during training, especially during some of my longer runs. The pain started to intensify around mile 15 when crossing the Queensboro Bridge. Things get quiet on the bridges as the crowd disappears, and that expanse crossing the East River seemed to go on forever. But the reward of the dense crowd packed in at 1st Ave is known to lift the spirits and it was no exception for me. That jolt of noise and energy gave me a boost, no doubt, but unfortunately it was not enough to adequately sustain me for the miles ahead.
Around mile 17 I heard a familiar voice call my name. I looked to my left to see another high school friend, Jen, with her husband and daughters just behind the barricade. I quickly ran over to her, gave her a hug, and muttered the telling words, "I'm so tired." They had come in from New Jersey to enjoy the day and to cheer me on. Another incredibly touching gesture and one that gave me another real boost. But reality quickly sets in when you turn around and begin working your way back up the road. Another mile up the road and the gravity of my physical state began to make itself clear. My pace had slowed a bit at this point, but I was still contemplating the goal of a finish somewhere near four hours...until the cramps started. I think I stopped between mile 18 and 19 for the first time to try to stretch out my legs, hoping that would improve the cramps that were now radiating out from my calf muscles in either leg. But the reality is that when cramps begin, its already way too late to deal with them effectively. I used to get severe cramps during high school football and they were very much on my radar as a potential problem, but despite my precautions and preparations they surfaced on race day. Salt imbalance is a major part of CF and it got the better of me this day. At the 30k split (18.9 miles) my time was 2:59:30 - a projected finish time of about 4:12. At the 35k split my time was 3:41:18 - a projected finish of about 4:27. In other words my pace fell off from about 9:10 seconds to 13:30 seconds per mile in those roughly 3 miles. I was crashing.
Needless to say the rest of the race was very difficult. The dehydration was clearly affecting me and my legs were beginning to shut down. This was disappointing and frustrating because I had not experienced this in any serious way during training and I had been vigilant about drinking Gatorade along the course. It snuck up on me and now it was taking me out. In subsequent conversations with some of the other CFers that ran, they all recommended the use of salt pills prior to and during the race. Advice I will surely heed in future efforts. If there was a bright side to this, it was the simple fact that I was limited by my legs and not by my lungs as one might expect for an individual with CF.
The last 7 miles were a real gut check. I had to keep it together a midst watching any chance of finishing under four hours evaporate. I had to do my best to manage a tremendous amount of pain and fatigue with every step. And I had to do my best to keep a respectable form at 110th street where I knew my family and friends had congregated. This was mostly for not though, as somehow I missed them (and the incredible turtle-themed signs Sarah and my sister Emily made) and they missed me (fortunately I did see my Aunt Jane). Perhaps the most disappointing part of the race was entering Central Park. This was the part of the race that was supposed to be triumphant - the part where the runner relishes in their display of stamina and toughness and is rewarded with the throngs of adoring onlookers. Instead I had to shut all that out and focus on the task of getting one foot in front of the other, sometimes walking, so I could get to the finish line and start rehydrating. It was a very humbling experience watching waves and waves of people run passed me on their way to a much stronger finish. My official finish time was 4 hours, 42 minutes, and ten seconds.
Despite all this though, it would be misleading to spend too much time dwelling on the disappointing parts of the race because the positive experiences of the day far outweighed the struggles. As I would soon find out, crossing the finish line was actually just the beginning of the excitement. After some trouble locating my checked bag (which was probably a blessing in disguise as it forced me to keep walking and probably work out some of those cramps) I made my way up to my uncle's apartment on W 86th street. What started as plans for a rendezvous of a few core supporters had grown into a much larger group in the days immediately before the race. When I arrived I was thrilled to see a group of over 20 people that had assembled to congratulate and share in the my accomplishment.
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| The crew of family and friends that assembled for post-race festivities. |
Without question this was the most rewarding part of the day. The race hadn't transpired exactly as I had visualized, but here I was with finisher medal in one hand, beer in the other (I told you I needed to rehydrate), surrounded by family and friends and having accomplished what I set out to do. The next couple hours were spent drinking, eating, laughing, recounting the race, and catching up with loved ones. Life doesn't get any better. It really doesn't.
Being in that apartment, feeling the encouragement and love, made clear to me that this was much more than a personal experience. So many people had a part in it and without what turned out to be an enormously successful fundraising campaign I truly doubt I would have found the motivation to follow-through with something like this.
There are too many people to thank personally (though many, many thank you cards will be making their way through the mail shortly). I just want everyone who has donated, or lent a few words of advice or encouragement, or read this blog to know that from the bottom of my heart I am thankful. Thank you for being a part of this journey. A journey from which I emerge a stronger, more optimistic, more prepared person ready to deal with all challenges that lay ahead. You have inspired me and together we have done something very real. Let's do it again sometime.
