In the city that never sleeps, there were two groups walking the streets of Manhattan at 5 a.m. on Sunday, November 1 – those Halloween party revelers in full costume and those who were catching a bus to the starting line of the 40th ING New York City Marathon.
When I and 43,740 other runners were finally lined up on the ramps leading up the Verranzano Narrows Bridge in Staten Island, there was an eerie calm. Speakers were blaring Jay-Z’s and Alicia Key’s “Empire State of Mind” song with the lyrics ‘Let’s hear it for New York.’
The beginning of the 26.2 journey through all five boroughs, started runners (including myself) waving their hands flashing smiles of confidence to the media and TV station helicopters overhead.
After a brief distance in Staten Island before crossing the bridge, the race unfolded in Brooklyn. The number of cheering spectators was overwhelming, many of whom were holding signs or offering us Halloween candy along with words of encouragement.
Between miles four and six, I was inspired by a man running next to me (who was giving me a run for my money) with prosthetic legs. I would be reminded of him and his strength, humbling me when my feet began to blister at mile 16.
“Two boroughs down, three to go,” I thought to myself at mile 13 as we left Brooklyn and entered Queens. Though the brief two miles in Queens didn’t nearly do the borough justice, it allowed my grandma a glimpse of me as I ran onto the Queensboro Bridge and into Manhattan.
Miles 16-19 were rather dreadful, as we were left to count each block in a straight-shot run from 59th Street to 128th until we crossed over into the Bronx. Though we only spent 1 ½ miles in the Bronx, it provided a much needed boost for all runners to know that we got through the fifth borough and would then re-enter Manhattan for the final push to the finish.
Mile 22 is when one “hits the wall.” I and many others hit it hard – and we peeled off to the side of the road to dump water on ourselves, stretch, or feign tying a shoelace so we could catch our breath.
It was somewhat comforting to know that, although we were running this race individually, we were all suffering together. This shared sentiment, along with high-fives from kids along the side of the road, and energy goo, are what carried me to mile 23.
By then, my legs were shaking and I was about to throw in the towel and start walking when I saw the course made a sudden turn into Central Park. With even more spectators and louder cheering, I could not allow myself to walk so close to the final stretch.
It took 41,280 steps, four blisters, and even a lost toenail but finally crossing the finish line was well worth the pain.
Waiting in Penn Station to catch a train back to Boston, I could spot the other marathon runners wobbling to Starbucks or hoisting themselves out of chairs with shaking arms and pained expressions.
As I clung to the railing and limped down the stairs to my train, the person behind me impatiently huffed, “Another one of those crazy marathon runners,” as he shoved past me to get to another track. Ah, I love NY.
