project 52 // week 43 :: 26.2 State of Mind

Published November 8, 2010

“Breathe deeply and appreciate the moment.” That’s what it said on a banner being carried by a small plane circling just above the start line of the 2010 ING NYC Marathon at the foot of the Verrazano Bridge in Staten Island. I could not have gotten better advice to calm my nerves just before my first marathon ever. Miles and miles of training and here I was in a corral of hundreds of other runners, each with their own prelude to race day. Then in one resounding moment, the cannons went off and the race was on. Goodbye, Staten Island. Hello, mile 1.

It was hard for me to wrap my head around the grandeur of this race and its setting in the five boroughs of NY. 48,000 people showed up and I could not help but stop on the bridge a few times to take some photos on my iPhone to capture the moment. After the photographer in me stepped aside, the runner inside me said it was time to go. Goodbye, Verrazano Bridge. Hello, Brooklyn.

The entrance into Brooklyn as we descended down the ramp from the bridge would set the tone for the rest of the race. I’m usually used to the throngs of people cheering only at the finish line in most races, but right here at the end of mile 1 were hundreds of spectators already lined up with signs ranging from “Welcome to Brooklyn!” and “Only 25 miles to go!” I got my first huge push of motivation when I saw Melodee, Edel and Chrissy just before the mile 8 marker. Any runner can attest to the fact that when you have friends and loved ones on the course cheering you on and supporting you, it means the world to you at that very moment. I stop to give Melodee a quick kiss on the cheek, and she responds “What are you doing? Go, go, go!” And so I did. Still feeling pretty good, I trudge along past Ft. Green, Williamsburg, and Greenpoint, over the Pulaski Bridge towards the half marathon point. Goodbye, Brooklyn. Hello, Queens.

Though we only ran 3 miles through Queens, fatigue started to set in a bit at this point. Still, the spectator lined streets led me to ignore all of that. I kept my pace and stuck to my race plan and soaked it all in. It was interesting how quickly neighborhoods changed from one borough to the next– in decor, it’s people, the music, the smell of local cuisines in the air. I passed a fried chicken joint on the right which all the more made me long for the finish line. I saw the Queensboro Bridge peaking through some buildings in the distance and I both dreaded and looked forward to the challenge, for I knew that the “wall of sound” awaited me on the other side. As I ran up the steady incline of the bridge, I took my first unscheduled walk break and needed to recompose myself. The 4:20 pace group whizzed passed me at this point along with my goal to finish at that time and it was the point in the race where I started making deals with myself and adjusting my goal time on the fly. But still, I pushed on toward the mile 16 marker. Goodbye, Queens. Hello, quads.

After a grueling battle with the steep incline and decline of the bridge, I turn the corner right onto 1st Avenue in Manhattan, greeted by thousands of strangers cheering me on and giving me motivation. I stuck to the left side of the course looking for our support group once again and the endless crowds of specators looking me right in the eye and telling me “You can do it!” helped me trudge along forward. The loud sounds of cheering, music, and vuvuzelas drowned out the voice inside me that said my legs were sore beyond belief. I see Melodee and Chrissy once again on 87st street and give them high fives before heading to mile 18 where I would inevitably hit the wall. Goodbye runner’s high. Hello reality.

Gone were the crowds of people. Gone were the cheers and motivation. The next 2 miles into the Bronx boasted only pockets of supporters, mixed with some locals going about their daily Sunday routine. This was the true test of mental strength as runners started slowing down one by one around me. More walkers than runners at this point, with only each other to motivate the next. I stop running and ease into a walk, my feet, calves, and quads all screaming at me. A woman in a yellow t-shirt puts her hand on my shoulder and says “If it makes you feel better, it’s still not as painful as giving birth.” I let out a chuckle and tried to start running again only to have to stop completely and stretch just before the Willis Avenue bridge. I had to walk almost all of the bridge to regain composure. I hit “the wall.” The one everyone talks about at mile 18. The place where you start to tell yourself you can’t do it. The place where I give the Willis Ave bridge the middle finger before easing back into a jog. I continue on like this, down on myself for the next mile and a half or so. Starting and stopping, doubting myself. At this point I bargained myself to finishing in 4:40 and even that was starting to slip out of my grip with every walk break. Then all of a sudden, just before mile 20 I come across an oasis. A “cheer zone” and a huge video screen showing us as we pass by. The music blasting loudly from the speakers could not have come at a better time. It was Empire State of Mind pt. II by Jay-Z and Alicia and as the first verse dropped I got this huge boost of motivation. Out of no where, I sped up pretty close to my goal pace. Then came the people and the cheers once again and I was feeling great! Just 10 minutes before I was ready to quit–mentally and physically. And all of a sudden I felt this amazing rush and surge of energy and I had a big smile plastered to my face as I sung along loudly…”I’m the new Sinatra, and since I made it here // I could make it anywhere.” Goodbye doubt. Hello, second wind.

From here on in, there was no stopping me from crossing that finish line. At 135th St., I thought to myself, wow, it is a loooong way to 57th St & Central Park South. But I was a new runner, a rejuvenated man. I began giving high fives to spectators, yelling words of encouragement to my fellow runners, and weaved in and out of traffic. My legs hated me for it. “5 more miles!” I pleaded with them. They reluctantly agreed. And so I pushed on forward, one foot in front of the other, back into Manhattan’s Upper East Side. From this point on, there was no shortage of spectators all the way to the finish line. Of all the witty signs I saw all day, from “Your pace or mine?” to “Run like you stole something!” I come across a middle aged woman standing on a corner by herself with a big green poster board above her head that read “RUN BIATCH!” in big bold letters and nothing else. Quite possibly the best sign all day. We finally made our way into Central Park and I’m just overwhelmed at this point. Victory is so close I could taste it. The energy buzzing in the air was electric and I got a bit choked up with 1 mile left to go. I held back my man tears and gave one final push towards the finish line. 300 yards to go said a sign to my right. 200 yards…100 yards. “Congratulations on finishing the 2010 ING NYC Marathon!!!” a voice says over loud music. I did it, I finished. I am a marathoner! 4 hours 48 minutes and 12 seconds later — Goodbye, 26.2. Hello, finish line.