NYC 26.2: A Recap

Yesterday was my 4th New York City marathon, and my 7th marathon overall. And let me tell you, they do NOT get any easier. In fact, they seem to be taking more of a toll on my body (and my mind) each year. More my mind than my body I even hate to admit. However,  I just can't seem to stop doing them. As stressed and anxious as I was the weeks leading up to the big race, the feeling of crossing that finish line makes it all worthwhile. Each year, I sob pretty hard after doing that. And let's not even talk about the many tears shed the two to three weeks before the race, and then the ones during the actual race on numerous occasions. I have issues, okay? The amount of pressure I continually put on myself to better my best comes at a severe emotional price. I am trying to deal with it because it's not so healthy for me to stress and to cry at the drop of a hat when discussing how hard this is, the fact that I actually did it, and now, the fact that it's over. As someone who is super competitive, I don't know if I will ever ultimately be satisfied with any time, but trying to beat my current one is something I am keen on doing, even if it drives me temporarily insane for some parts of the year.

Last year, Hurricane Sandy cancelled the marathon and it was supposed to be my year. I ran Harrisburg and was four minutes off my PR and was happy with that. After the year I had had with my numerous UC flares and hospitilization, I was just happy to finish. Because NYC 2012 didn't happen, that made this year "my year." But it wasn't. Sad face. I didn't race the race that I wanted yesterday. I missed a PR by 3 minutes and 3 seconds and although that was upsetting, I still felt a huge sense of accomplishment. With headwinds the first 20 miles of the race and some quad cramping the last three miles, it wasn't ideal, but I fought through it all as I knew I could. This race was fun though. Running down 4th Avenue in Brooklyn and 1st Avenue in Manhattan is just the best. Like you can't describe that feeling to others that haven't experienced it.  Strangers are genuinely excited to cheer for you. Someone they have never met. As corny as it is, the human spirit is alive and well on this day. It's incredible and something truly special. The whole day is amazing and that's why its one of the best days of the year in NYC.  It's the reason they call the NYC Marathon "A race like no other." There is no comparison. The city is filled with such positive energy and unification. It really makes me appreciate the city even more than I do on a regular basis.

I am not one to really recap my race like many runners do on their runner's blogs because this is not a running blog. Even though many of my posts have been about running lately, I will start discussing other stuff again. Dating. Men. Poop. Reality TV. Don't you worry. But since I did run this race and it was such an enormous part of my life, why not write a brief recap? Okay? Super!

Of course I barely slept Sunday night out of a mixture of anxiety and excitement. Good thing it was daylight savings and we got the extra hour of sleep. I probably slept six hours, which to me, was pretty good for the night before a big race. I got dressed, ate a little something, and hopped in a cab to the bus to the start. Buses take runners from the library on 42nd to the start village on Fort Wadsworth on Staten Island. I have taken this bus before and have also taken the ferry-bus option as well. I decided to take the bus this year and it took us two hours to get there. This is usually a twenty minute ride but with a re-route because of increased security measures, it took a crazy two hours. I couldn't really complain though because we were sitting on a warm coach bus instead of sitting outside in the cold weather. I had tons of layers on that I was ready to shed and donate on the island, but they kept me nice and toasty on the bus. Traffic was horrific. One would think police would have had a separate lane for the race buses, but there wasn't. It got so bad that the bus finally dropped us off about a half mile from Fort Wadsworth and made us walk the rest of the way. There we were met by metal detectors and a bag check. After that, there was another security checkpoint where we were wanded. After the Boston Marathon tragedy last year, NYRR is taking no chances with security and it didn't bother me one bit. By the time I got in the waiting area, waited in line to pee and got to my section, I sat down for all of twenty minutes to take in the scene before lining up in my corral for my 10:30 start. From where we were, we could hear the canons for the first wave and see the runners take to the Verrazano. It was awesome! This year there were more porta potties in the corral, and no lines to them which was was equally awesome in my eyes. I took off my layers, peed, baby-powdered one final time and got ready. This was about to go down. My 4.5 months of training, discipline, a little social sacrficing, and stressing was coming down to one race. And that's all it was. One race. One run. A culmination. I was ready.

This year, since I was a different wave, I ran on the lower level of the Verrazano. I have always run the top which is so cool and never even knew people ran on the lower level. It was windy as fuck and I had a very slow first mile which freaked me out a bit but knew that was because of the wind and the crowds. My wave also had a different route than everyone else the first three miles. It was one I hadn't take before so was welcome to me. We went through some Bay Ridge side streets and it was super neighborhoody. I knew I was going to see my best friend around mile 3 so was getting excited. She use to live on the UES so would always cheer for me up there later in the race but this time it was early on and I promised her I wouldn't cry when I saw her since it was so early in the race. Well, I broke that promise the moments leading up to the intersection where I knew she'd be. As soon as we actually saw each other, I lost it like a baby but quickly composed myself as I continued through Brooklyn. Almost half of the marathon is run through the different neighborhoods of Brooklyn. Fourth Avenue is by far the longest stretch and becomes one of the most fun. I had a friend who was waiting and cheering for me out there which was awesome. I also cried two more times when I saw a man with Downs Sydrome happily walking the race with his guide. Fucking inspiring. Then the woman with two arm crutches and her guide. Seriously, there are no words for me to describe how these people make me feel. I am constantly in awe of their strength and it's so motivating and inspiring. They are amazing human beings. And there are so many of them out there that go unnoticed that really should be recognized from their greatness.

Then we go through the Hasidic part of Williamsburg which is always strange because the Hasidic Jews just have these disapproving looks on their faces as we run through their neighborhood as if we are a huge inconvenience to them. It's bizarre. Then through hipster Williamsburg where the crowd picks up again and where I first saw my mom. (We had it all planned out on locations I'd see her and this was the first. Timed to perfection, there she was! Yes!!) At the half-marathon point of the race I was running a 2:10 and at a solid pace (sub 10 min/mile) to a PR. I had made up my slow first mile and really was cruising (for me) through Brooklyn and feeling pretty damn good. 

Next was onto our short stint in Queens. I knew I had some friends who would be there too. I only spotted one of them but it was still great. I LOVE seeing faces I know in the crowd. It keeps me going. Finally, it was onto the Queensboro bridge. We would finally be entering Manhattan, my favorite stretch of the race, First Avenue was upon us. I started to tear up again. Duh. I knew I would see tons of friendly faces along this part of the race and I couldn't wait. I cruised up First Avenue again up the west side of the street where I knew a few friends would be. I had some on the east side of the street too but couldn't waste energy going back and forth so had to pick. The feeling running up First is the best in the entire race. Then you hit the Willis Avenue Bridge heading into the last borough, the Bronx. Now this is where I really began to feel the race on me. This was probably the biggest incline of the race and it was tough but I powered through. There is such a small part of the marathon in the Bronx and it goes by pretty quickly before you are back in Manhattan. I hit the wall here. From this point on, I was really dragging. No amount of gel, water, or Gatorade was going to do the trick so I knew my mental game had to kick in here. I knew I was going to see my mom again on 110th so I had to hold on to that and know she would push me the rest of the race. Finally, I saw her and she was able to hop in with me and pace me the rest of the race. She knew better than to talk to me at this point as I didn't want to waste an ounce of energy that I didn't need to. Everything was a big blur from that point on. I had to finish this race but wasn't sure my quads were going to let me. They both began to cramp. I had to stop and massage them and then try to pick them up to run again. This happened about four times and is no doubt the reason why I missed my PR. Grrr.... I know it's out of my control, but it's still upsetting. I picked up my pace a bit once in the park. I heard my name called so many times but I was too much in the zone to even look up and acknowledge it like I had the first 23 miles of the race. As we made our way down Central Park West and began to head in the park, I was sure security was going to pull my mom because she didn't have a bib, but no, she was able to enter with me. With the finish line in my sight, I knew I had this and we were able to cross that line together. Then I completely lost it. Sobbing. I did it. I was so proud of myself for finishing but at the same time upset that I didn't PR. I know it was the stupid wind. And I know it was my quads, but I hate making excuses so it was a hard pill to swallow. However, I had to remind myself what an accomplishment running this race, in and of itself, is.

Since my mom was able to finish with me, I didn't have to worry about finding her. We exited the park, met up with some friends, and then headed home. I definitely had a runners high and was feeling great after it all soaked in. The legs were a bit sore as were my abs, but that was to be expected. I stretched, iced, and got some Shake Shack when hunger finally hit me three hours later. Although I kind of cried on and off the rest of the night out of disappointment in my time, I knew I ran a decent race. It was my second fastest time ever and I know it most certainly won't be my last marathon. I have been bitten by the marathon bug. Obvs. I can't help it. I like having a goal and having something to work for. It's the athlete in me. So there is def more to come in my future. You can count on that. 

To those that have supported me the last four months, thank you. To those that have listened to me whine and complain the last four months, thank you. To those who understood why I was going to bed at 8:00 (and sometimes 7:30, don't judge), thank you.  To those who I cried to over and over again, thank you. Most of these people are all the same and mean so much to me. Thank you all for the continuing love and support. And mom, thank you, thank you, thank you. You have listened to your fair share of my emotional craziness the last few months but got me over that finish line yesterday. You're the best and I am so grateful that you were here for me this weekend.