Homecoming: The 2010 NYC Marathon Part IV - The Bronx, 5th Ave and The Finish

Coming to Terms with Da Bronx

Ever since my first NYCM, I've always thought of the short jaunt through the Bronx as a visit through my own personal hell. In past years, I've cramped here, I've walked here, I've even once thought about DNF'ing here. It's no wonder then why I continue to have nightmares about this place well in advance of the race. This time though, as I strode confidently into the belly of the beast, the underworld of the Bronx, shortly after the 20th mile, I was not at all worried about my legs or my pace. I was more concerned with finding my Flyer friends on the left side of the road coming off the bridge and then running back to the right sidelines to find my other group of Flyer friends right before the next bridge.

But find them I did and I was able to double-high-five both parties (of two each) prior to exiting the borough in the 21st mile. My times for both the 20th (7:33) and 21st mile (7:07) were very pedestrian at first glance but they actually represent one of the fastest times I've ever recorded running through here. My effort was helped out by a Flyer lady teammate DC who called out to me as she was running. I was a little shocked to see her there. Since her self-reported projected time was about 10 minutes slower than I'd figured I'd run today, I didn't know whether she was having an exceptional day or whether I was just running exceptionally slow. In either case, I was reminded by her presence that I should run faster in earnest just because I could.

Reaching the Madison Ave Bridge, I found myself running back into Manhattan at a faster pace than I did when I left a couple of miles ago. I was grateful that my legs held out well for the most part through the borough that had always given me such trouble in the past. Although my legs were started to grow a little weary and my hamstrings a little bit tight, I was happy to know that the finish line was just a 5 mile jog through Central Park away.

Hi Five Tally for The Bronx - 3; Total - 24.2

Running with Lil Bro on 5th Ave

The crowds were spilling onto the streets by the time I made my way back to West Harlem and back on 5th Avenue. Between pedestrians trying to cross through the marathon route and runners cramping and walking along the course, I had difficulty finding much running room on this stretch. I kept my eyes peeled to the left side for my brother who I was expecting at mile 22 to jump in and run a mile with me. As I looked around, wondering if/when he was going to show, I felt myself wondering if he'd be able to hold my speed now that I was running sub 7 minute pace again.

At mile 21.8, right before the course hits Marcus Garvey Park, I spotted my brother, gave him a high-five and he jumped in to run with me. Actually, I believe it was my cousin J who first spotted me out on the course and had the wherewithal to record this video documentation of my brother joining me in the race.

To this day, I have no idea how she managed to turn on the videocamera at the exact moment as I was coming through. (Major kudos to Cuz for the shot!)

Tackling the 5th Ave Mile with my brother was a major highlight of this race for me. Not only have I dreamt about this exact scenario on many occasions in the past, but now that it was actually happening here, in between the 22nd and 23rd miles of the NYC marathon, which in the past versions of this race have been dedicated to my brother and my sister respectively, made the entire experience very surreal for me. We ran easy, we ran fast, and we passed more people (including Minnie, a fellow teammate, and a CPTC'er!) than I ever though I could running uphill on 5th Ave. At times, it felt was as if we were rollerblading while everyone else was standing still! Yes, it felt that good. We held a strong pace until I bid him adieu at the entrance to Central Park at Engineer's Gate. Mile 22 in 6:56. Mile 23 in 7:09. It was the best two miles EVER!

Finishing Strong in Central Park

After leaving my brother in the outskirts of Central Park, I maintained a strong pace all the way through to the end. In my mind, after mile 23 was passed, it was just a 5K to the end and it was for the most part downhill. I stopped for a second or two to hi-five two twitter/DM friends Sam and Madame Erica in front of Cleopatra's Needle but otherwise it was pretty much an all out sprint to the finish. Although the objective data weren't very impressive (Mile 24 in 7:22, Mile 25 in 7:18, Mile 26 in 6:59), it was the fastest closing stretch I've ever run in my hometown marathon. Not only so, but I also managed to cross the finish line in sub-3:05, which was a loose time goal I had when I was planning this run out in my head.

Hi Five Tally for 5th Ave/Central Park - 2;

Final Count for NYC Marathon - 26.2

After The Finish

The post race festivities were awesome as many teammates and I gathered at a local bar to share a few pints, show off our medals and regale each other with our race stories. The best post-race moment for me though came immediately after the finish when I met up with my brother and cousin after the race and they asked if I had seen their sign. "What sign?" I asked. Then they hi-fived each other, laughed and showed me this.

It was the best sign I NEVER saw while running the New York City Marathon!

Homecoming: The 2010 NYC Marathon Part III - Queens & First Ave

Finding Family in Queens

It had gotten sunnier and significantly warmer now as I made my way through mile 14. I had thrown away my gloves back at mile 5 but was still wearing my arm sleeves that I started the race with. Because I was expecting my brother in the next half-mile, I took off my sleeves here anticipating a drop-off once I saw him. As I did, I ran by DM friends Susan and Robin who I did not expect to be watching the race from out in Queens. It was nice to see them although I was too preoccupied at the time to give them a hi-five. I continued on hoping to find them later on in the course.

Less than a minutes later, right off a turn, I spotted two Flyer friends LG and DL and gave them each a quick high-five. They were good friends of mine and residents of Queens so it energized me to see them there. I wanted to stop for a chat but thought better of it since I knew many friends in Manhattan would be expecting me to keep time.

At the end of this busy block, almost right at the entrance to the Queensboro Bridge, I found my little brother, my cousin and her financee for the first time that day. This was the first time my brother has ever watched me run a marathon, so it was tremendously exciting for me to see him on the sidelines cheering. Not only so, but since he had recently picked up running earlier this year, I hoped that by experiencing the fervor of the marathon firsthand, he'd get excited about distance running and maybe attempt NYCM someday soon too.

Upon reaching my family members, I gave them each a well deserved hi-five, but didn't say too much since I knew I'd be seeing them twice more later. I dropped off my arm sleeves with my brother, said hi and continued on.

Hi Five Tally for Queens - 6; Total - 11.2

Double Dipping with Flyers and Friends on Manhattan (1st Ave)

Reaching the Queenboro Bridge felt somewhat of a bittersweet victory for me. More than half the race was already over, my knee pain which came on insidiously at mile 8 had somehow disappeared in Queens, and even as I was climbing the bridge, I was passing waves of runners and feeling as strong as I've ever felt at this stage of the marathon. Still, I couldn't help but feel as if my pace could've and should've been better had I allowed myself to race. My time became so irrelevant to me that I forgot to press lap on my Garmin and check my pace at mile 14! So all I had as I pass by 15 was a 2-mile split of 14:24 for the section of Queens. But as I began to wonder if all this fun was worth sacrificing another chance to run a great race, I saw an Achilles runner with a mangled leg slowing walking with a cane up the Queensboro Bridge. All of us runners clapped and cheered him on as he crested the hill. This inspirational effort reminded me that my race today wasn't really about me. It's about the spirit of the marathon and sharing this homecoming experience with family and friends who have supported and encouraged my passion to run. As I began my decent into Manhattan, I briefly reviewed my preconceived game plan of where I was going to run and who I was going to see and almost instantaneously became happy and emotional that I will soon be arriving at the mecca of running, 1st Avenue in the NYCM, once again.

The crowds coming off the bridge and up the first portion of First Avenue was as heavy, loud, and dense as I had remembered it in years past. Although I enjoyed the loud cheering and fed off their energy as I made my trek toward the Upper East Side, it was difficult to find friends spectating along the heavily populated route. I missed my bloggy pal Dori and another who had a sign for me. I did however find my good friend MT who was my lucky charm in Chicago and a long running friend AG who was right where he said he'd be. I registered both of their hi-fives before continuing on.

A little further north, once I'd pass by mile 16 in 7:08 and mile 17 in 7:07, I found myself at the Flyer PowerGel Station without much clue as to how i'd make it individual and fun. I originally intended just to run by the PowerGel gauntlet and hi-five everybody in line (like I did last year) and leave. However, once I reached the end of the line and realized that I had not yet seen my good Flyer friend BS, I quickly decided to run back the half block to the start of the PowerGel gauntlet line and run through again. Although I did not see BS and I gave hi fives to essentially the same people, the second time down the gauntlet was every bit as fun as the first. The look of deja' vu on people's faces were absolutely hilarious and way worth the price of admission. Despite the 15-20 Flyers who received hand slaps from me, I am tallying this escapade down the gauntlet as merely 8 since I recognized and remembered at least that many faces and names.

Needless to say, I was revitalized and reengaged with the race for a little while after that brief Powergel station interlude. Unlike me, many runners were already sagging and fighting cramps at this point. I felt a little guilty for feeling good as I passed them by, remembering back to the days when I too felt like crap fighting my body and the road the whole way up north. Mile 18 (with extra mileage added on) was passed in 7:56 while mile 19 was completed in 7:11. I received another jolt of energy when I saw my brother and cousin again just before the entrance to the Willis Avenue Bridge. They were a little further down the road than I expected them to be, but seeing them just before mile 20 was totally awesome for me. We made arrangements to meet one final time on 5th Ave before I left to face my own personal demons in the Bronx.

Hi Five Tally for First Ave - 10; Total - 21.2

Homecoming: The 2010 NYC MarathonPart II - The Start & Brooklyn

The theme of the New York City Marathon this year was "I'M IN. WE'RE IN." I wasn't sure what it meant when I first saw this message on a subway ad on my way to work. I didn't know what it mean when I saw it on the back cover of my registration packet. It wasn't until I heard it from Mary Wittenberg in an interview for the marathon on a local news program a few days before November 7th that the simple message hit home for me. As a runner in the NYC Marathon, no one ever runs alone. Besides the 50,000+ who will be joining me in the annual exodus from Staten Island to Central Park, there will be countless thousands of volunteers, police officers, medical personnel, sanitation workers, and of course the 2,000,000+ who will be watching from the sidelines, cheering the runners on. So no matter where you are a runner, a volunteer, a officer, a spectator, or just someone watching the 5 hour marathon coverage on NBC, everyone in town is involved on some level with the race. Everyone for that one day is a part of the NYC marathon experience.

In many ways, the goal of NYRR to create an interactive communal marathon experience between runners, neighbors, friends and spectators mirrors my own objectives for this race. In each of the previous 3 years, NYCM has always been a target race for me. Whether the goal was to BQ, PR, or run sub-3, I've always been concerned with time, speed, and pace while running this marathon. Each time I ran I would see many fellow runners, especially the European contingent, purposely run along the sidelines to give everyone hi-fives. Some runners would even peel off mid-race just to have a beer or jump into a crowd of friends for a quick picture or two. They all seem to have so much fun! I'd be lying if I didn't admit to a twinge of envy every time I saw these events as I ran by. I wondered many times whether I'd ever allow myself to not race this marathon all-out but run a little slower just to enjoy the festivities and have a little fun. This year, after finally reaching my sub-3 goal in Chicago, and given that I will likely have many friends and family out cheering for me, I figured that I'd use this opportunity to interact with the crowds and run this marathon as a homecoming race. What follows then is the story of my interactive fun run through 26.2 miles (and 26.2 hi-fives) in the five boroughs of New York City.

Thoughts at The Start

Even as I huddled with a handful of others about an hour before the start in a makeshift tent at the Local Competitive Start on Fort Wadsworth, quietly reviewing the list of friends and family I was expecting to see and where they'd be out on the course that day, I felt utterly out of place and unprepared for the task at hand. For one thing, this was my first time starting off the marathon from the lower level of the Verrazano Bridge in the Green Start (I had always been Blue up at the top in years past), and second of all, I wasn't sure I belong in this elite field since I wasn't planning on racing this marathon (I was urged by my running group and NYRR friends not to sacrifice my spot since it's considered an honor to be there, even though for many reasons, I'd preferred my previously assigned Orange Start). Add to it the fact that it was bitterly cold and windy at the start and I had forgotten to pack breakfast for the hour-and-half trek over to Staten Island from Queens, I was afraid to consider the natural progression of this day that was already off to such an inauspicious start.

I felt considerably better a short while later when I began to see more friends and teammates trickling into the corral. I left my spot in the secluded tent which wasn't offering much protection from the cold anyway and went over to hang with the others members of my running club, the New York Flyers. We all complained about the wind and the cold but similarly agreed that the weather conditions were pretty ideal for a great race. After experimenting with a different assortment of clothing options the night before, I finally settled on my Saucony singlet, shorts with gloves, armsleeves and black bandana to run with for the day. I debated whether a long-sleeve tech would have been more appropriate for the frigid conditions, but given that I tend to get more hot than cold in the middle of long runs and I was unfamiliar with running with long sleeves during a marathon, I went with the "less is more" clothing option thinking I could always shed my sleeves mid-race once they are no longer needed.

Finally, the call to start came and everyone shuffled off to the on-ramp of the lower deck of the Verrazono to await the beginning of the race. Clothes and plastic bottles began flying toward the air as everyone collectively prepared for the race ahead. I tried to listen to the introduction of the elites and the festivities on the upper deck but the sounds were barely perceptible amidst the chatter around me. It barely annoyed me though. Staring at the bare road just beyond the start, in the middle of a sea of humanity all speaking in different languages, I felt as if I was at the precipice of an epic adventure about to take place. As the clock right above the start counted down the minutes and seconds to the start of the race, I couldn't have imagined a better place to be on a Sunday morning in NYC.

Touring Through Brooklyn

Having survived the wind tunnel that was the Verrazano and the solitude that was the first few miles of this race, I found myself running down the mean streets of Brooklyn trying to find friends as well as my rhythm and pace. I was loosely checking my pace at the mile markers but knew that they would lose significance the further along I ran. Still, I was surprised that my first three mile splits (7:18, 6:22, 6:48) were exactly how I'd plan them to be even if I were racing. I was running very comfortably at this point, acquiescing at every encounter to those around me who wanted to take it out hard.

At mile 4.5, I saw my first friend CD way on the left side of the course. Because I was running on the right and there was a barrier separating us, I couldn't run over to greet him like I wanted. Instead I found a younger guy, looking way too enthusiastic and yelling too vociferously for 10AM on a Sunday and slapped his hand instead. He gave me a loud cheer as I ran by.

Miles 4, 5, 6, and 7 were fun for me as I ran in and out of the side lanes, trying to find the perfect balance between keeping a good pace and finding funny/interesting people to hi-five. I gave hand slaps to a young lady who said via poster that "All Runners are Sexy", a co-worker and her friend who I found coming out of a water stop (with Gatorade pouring out of my nose) and a funny guy with 26.2 painted on his forehead who looked like someone I knew, but wasn't (oh well). My greatest find though was a little girl who couldn't have been taller than my knees clapping her hands and dancing on the side. I gave her a hand slap figuring since she's about 20% of my height, she'll count as .2 of a full high five. My pace for these miles hardly reflected the fun I was having (6:42, 6:48, 6:43, 6:48)

Having seen or passed everyone I was expected to see in Brooklyn (some were missing in action or on the wrong side of the street, Boo!), I concentrated my energy back on my own race and focused on maintaining a good rhythm and form for the rest of this borough. Unfortunately, as soon as I made the conscious decision to pay attention to me, there was a turn in the road followed by a sudden gradual uphill climb and I felt a twinge in the back of my right knee. It was not serious or debilitating, but it did concern me and made me aware that I have to temper my expectations and not push pace.

I eased my foot off the gas pedal gradually, running 6:50s for miles 8-10 (6:52, 6:54, 6:51) and 7:00s for miles 11-12 (7:01, 7:04). Although the crowds were boisterous and supportive here, I lost a little interest in my own race during these miles once I realized I had no shot at sub-3 or a course PR. I was eager to just get them done and find what awaits me in my home borough of Queens. My enthusiasm for escaping Brooklyn was reflected in my pace for mile 13 (6:56). I crossed the half in 1:29:56, more than a minute behind where I was at this point in Chicago but cautiously optimistic that the best parts of this race were still to come.

Hi-Five Tally for Brooklyn - 5.2

Homecoming: The 2010 NYC MarathonPart I - The Race Result

Yesterday, I ran the NYCM and as promised, had the most FUN I've ever had in a marathon! For the first time, I allowed myself to enjoy the spectacle of the race in front of family and friends with no pacing strategy and no race goal in mind and had an absolute blast.

In between 26.2 miles (actually more like 27.1 miles according to Garmin), I hi-fived 26.2 people, I ran through the Flyer PowerGel Station TWICE, ran with my brother for 1.2 miles, conquered Fifth Avenue, and had enough in the end to race the last 5K.

It was a whirlwind of a race and I completely enjoyed myself. Thanks goes out to all friends, family, Flyer peeps, blog/DM/Twitter buddies, co-workers, and everyone in between who came out and spectated yesterday. I think I was about 80% successful in hi-fiving all of you on my spreadsheet (double-hi fives counts as two right?).

Of course, there will be a much longer race report to come! (Don't worry...no seven parter though). In the meantime, for those who specifically care about the digits, here are mine:

Finishing Time - 3:04:52
Average Pace - 7:03 min/mi
Overall Place - 1236
Gender Place - 1156
Age Place - 260
NY Flyer Men - 3rd

Congratulations to all who ran the NYC Marathon yesterday! Thanks for being a part of the most spectacular annual event in New York City!

A Streak Is Broken, A Sub-3 Not To BeRace Report from the 2009 New York City MarathonPart V – The Different Phases of Lam in NYCM (in Photos)

Congrats and thanks everyone for getting through another one of my extremely long marathon race report! Although it was the toughest race recap I’ve ever had to write, knowing I have the encouragement and support of so many real, virtual, and bloggy friends definitely helped to make the job a little easier. As a reward for putting up with me (and as a final bookend to my race report), I’m going to present a little photographic montage of my running of the 2009 NYC Marathon for your viewing pleasure. Enjoy!

The Different Phases of Lam in The 2009 NYCM

The Chaos Begins Outside Fort Wadsworth

The Before Lam

On Your Mark, Get Set, Go!

The View from the Verazzano

The Lam at Mile 10 or

The Lam after a GU?

Why Is Lam so Happy Here?

‘Cause these Flyer gals (nyflygirl & runner26) are

cheering and handing out PowerGels

at Mile 18! Thanks Ladies!

Lam Not Looking So Good Now

Lam in Central Park

Lam winning the race…at 40K?

Lam Fighting For The Finish

The After Lam with Medal and Friends

A Streak Is Broken, A Sub-3 Not To BeRace Report from the 2009 New York City MarathonPart IV – The Worst 10K, Miles 21-26.2

Mile 21 – 7:09; Avg Marathon Pace – 6:49 min/mi

In my experience, the race story of the NYC marathon doesn’t officially begin until you reach the Bronx in Mile 21. Prior to this point, the marathon resembles more of a twenty mile block party through the five boroughs than an actual competitive race. There are spectators and dancers, music players and banners, and costumes and of course beer everywhere until everything suddenly disappears after the Willis Avenue Bridge. Almost concurrently, gone too is the fun, the joy, and the general euphoria that accompanied us during the preceding miles. I become acutely aware of my physical surroundings as I feel my energy and effort fade ever so slightly. More and more people are breaking down and walking now and I start to wonder whether I will be joining their procession soon. We make six right-angle turns on our way over to the Madison Ave Bridge and out of this wasteland that inexplicably sapped my energy today.

Mile 22 – 7:06; Avg Marathon Pace – 6:50 min/mi

Back in Manhattan, I check my last mile time as we run through the 21 mile marker. For reasons that seemed completely rational at the time, I was physically and emotionally devastated by the 7:09 I ran during the preceding mile. Even though my overall pace was still significantly below my goal time for this race, I was unable to fathom how I could have just ran 20 seconds above pace. In my mind, I was unable to justify that momentary lapse in speed and doubted if I could even maintain seven minute miles for the rest of the race. All I could see were the obstacles coming--the vaunted uphill battle on Fifth Ave, the rolling hills in Central Park and the last steep climb near the finish at Tavern on the Green—and I start to lose faith in myself. I take a gel, hoping it would help and speed up some when I see some good Flyers (LG, DL, and JT) clapping and cheering on the sidelines

Mile 23 – 7:16; Avg Marathon Pace – 6:51 min/mi

Mile 22 ends next to Marcus Garvey Memorial Park and I tell myself that I’ve just 4 measely miles to go. Although I figure I still have about a minute or so of bank time left, judging from my horrendous times for the last few miles, it was fairly evident that sub-3 would be in serious jeopardy today. My legs are fatiguing and complaining now. The purple magic carpet ride that I’ve been riding for the last two and a half hours is now nowhere to be found. I take the turn onto 5th Ave and stare down my destiny. I knew right there and then that these thirty blocks, from 120th Street right up to the Central Park entrance at 90th would hold the key to sub-3 for me. For all the weeks of hard training, all the high mileage I’ve endured, and all the aches and pains and muscle strains I’ve had to fight through, all of it will come down to this next mile and a half. Suddenly, I remember that these are the heart miles. My heart is supposed to take over now that the legs have dropped off. So I ask my heart what it’s got left. Do we really want this or are we not so ready to be elite? I push onward as I search within for an appropriate response.

Mile 24 – 8:08; Avg Marathon Pace – 6:54 min/mi

I continue to ask, but all I hear is just silence in return. I search the skies, the trees, and the spectators, waiting for a reason to keep this fight alive. My legs are sore and my body aches as I climb further and further along Fifth Avenue. The race slows down and each block feels as if it’s a mile all onto itself. More and more people have slowed to a walk now and despite the crowds enthusiastically urging us runners to go on, the marathon starts to resemble a funeral procession more and more. I go through the motions for another half block but quickly realize that my race has come to an end. I’ve lost all hope for sub-3 and I feel defeated, fatigued, and too emotionally drained to care anymore. I give up on myself and take my first steps halfway up the Fifth Avenue mile. The truth becomes incredibly evident to me immediately upon taking that first step. Although my physical body was equipped and trained to handle 20 miles at sub-3 pace, I did not equip my mind emotionally to do the same for the last six. I forgot to give myself more than one goal. I did not mentally acknowledge the implications of THIS marathon THIS time around. I failed to think about my own reasons why sub-3 is so important to me. It’s just an arbitrary time standard that sounds cool but has no real-life merit, isn’t it? The absolute worst was as I was walking mid-race and self-diagnosing myself, I quickly realized that I wasn’t cramping, wasn’t in pain, wasn’t even exhausted or feeling particularly hungry or thirsty. I felt fine which ashamed and frustrated me to no end. I have no justification for walking right now. Fueled by rage and anger over my epic fail as a marathon runner, I increase my gait to a steady shuffle.

When I finally do make it out of the abyss and reach the park entrance on 90th, I had every intention of turning left instead of right to drop out and head home. Unfortunately right at that moment, I saw a few folks that recognized me, and I was too embarrassed to quit. So I smile, continue on, and wonder how I could even think about not finishing a marathon with less than a 5K to go.

Mile 25 – 8:35; Avg Marathon Pace – 6:58 min/mi

The park looks splendid today with the autumn foliage highlighting the course in different shades of orange, yellow and brown. The crowds are lined four to five deep on either side and the excitement is palpable as we approach closer and closer to the finish. If my mind wasn’t so trapped in my own negativity, I could imagine how this would have been the perfect day to run. As is, I’m reduced to walking and shuffling as best I can. At around the back of the Met, I see familiar faces from the Flyers and I force myself to pick up the pace again for a little bit. I say hi to the Cat, roll down the Hill and wish that I was an inanimate object so I wouldn’t have to move any further. Each step becomes psychological warfare as I force my legs to become my slave even as it’s firing back with pangs of pain. After the hill, my mind becomes blank and I no longer even have the strength to acknowledge or hide from the crowd. All I did, until the park mile was over was recite a villanelle I memorized for poetry class way back when which seemed oddly appropriate given the circumstance. It begins “The art of losing isn’t hard to master…”

Mile 26 – 8:12; Avg Marathon Pace – 7:01 min/mi

The park is behind me now as I make the turn onto W59th to begin the final mile. In the distance I can faintly see Columbus Circle, my destination. Although the sign on the lamp post clearly state that the distance separating us are less than 800 meters, to my tired and feeble mind, it seemed like forever and a mile away. I am overwhelmed by fatigue and I take my final walk break less than 800m from the finish. I sneak a peak at the crowds gathered on the south side of the street and hear them start to chant my name. How pathetic it must seem to those who know me to be seeing me now moving at a snail’s pace so damn close to the finish. I start running again and am determined not to stop until I either cross that finish line or death consumes me, whichever was going to happen first.

The Last 0.2 – 1:36

Columbus Circle finally comes as I make the last right hand turn towards the finish. I start to relax and gather my thoughts one final time. Well, at least I finished another NYCM and didn’t die. At least I didn’t take a wrong turn and quit two miles back. I am utterly disappointed that I ran the last 10K so poorly yet am slightly relieved that the pressure to PR in this race is finally over. I can claim a moral victory knowing that I finished what I started even though I gave myself every reason not to go on. I climbed the last hill and silence my inner critic to hear the roar of the crowd one last time. I blow kisses to the spectators and race volunteers nearby as I approach the finish. The course may have gotten the best of me today, but I take solace in knowing that NYC has not yet seen the last of me, and I’ll be back again, better and stronger than I was today, to claim the prize in this city on this course one day!

Official Marathon Time – 3:04:20; Avg Marathon Pace – 7:02 min/mi

A Streak Is Broken, A Sub-3 Not To BeRace Report from the 2009 New York City MarathonPart III – The Better Miles 11-20

Mile 11 – 6:55; Mile 12 – 6:47; Avg Marathon Pace – 6:46

Having conquered the first ten miles with prime efficiency and dead-on consistency as orchestrated by the head (Nice job Head!), I turn the task of managing the next ten miles over to the legs. We are pushing onward on Bedford Ave which used to be notoriously known as the quietest mile in Brooklyn to all the runners who’s ever come through here. This is due to the fact that this road runs right through the heart of the Orthodox Jewish community where runners were once looked upon as objects of disdain rather than subjects of admiration. Back in the days of Fred Lebow, who organized the first five-borough version of this race, running was frowned upon in this sector of town and he really had to use his political and religious connections to negotiate and get special permission from all the rabbis of the synagogues just to run the marathon course through here. We were clearly not welcomed back then and it’s debatable whether this race, in the public spectacle it has become, is any more tolerable to the locals now. I couldn’t for the life of me understand how scary it must have been to be one of those first marathoners who raced through these streets. I probably would have picked up my pace significantly for these two miles fearing for my life! Luckily, nothing did happen to them and I can pass by these streets with nothing to worry about except for my pace, which has become slightly erratic since I released the mental reins early in the tenth mile.

At some point during the 11th mile, someone taps me on the shoulder. It’s J, the boyfriend of one of my good friends who I’d been coaching to run this race. He says hi. I say hi. He tells me he’s trying to break 3 and sprints ahead. I wish him good luck and slide back. I pondered for a second whether to use him as my rabbit but after a quick consultation with the Garmin decide that I’m doing quite all right running to the rhythm of my own two feet.

Mile 13 – 6:46; Mile 14 – 6:51; Avg Marathon Pace – 6:47

For most people, the sight of the Pulaski Bridge brings them joy because it means half the marathon is now over. (As an aside, I passed 13.1 in 1:28:41, which is exactly where I wanted to be. Success!) For me, this architectural benchmark has special significance because it signals a return home to Queens. Even before I moved here in early July, I have always identified myself as a native of this borough because this is where I spent nearly all of my childhood and teenage years. It is unfortunate that the marathon course winds through arguably the most deserted and unattractive parts of town because the rest of the borough is really ethnic, festive and scenic. Although an official marathon cheering zone and countless neighbors and spectators are out today doing the best they can to generate as much applause and cheers for us runners, I could never quite identify with the facetious sideline gestures running through these vacant alleyways and uninspiring streets. Instead, my mind was totally entrenched in a conversation my younger brother and I shared the night before. “So you think you’re ready? You ready for sub-3?” “I don’t know. I thought I knew six months ago. I thought in Boston…” “Forget Boston. This is New York. We don’t talk about Boston when we’re in New York. Just like Johnny Damon.“ (My brother is a big Yankee fan if you can’t tell…Yeah, major life FAIL on my part!) “JD?” “Look, you’re gonna do your thing and the Yankees are going to do theirs. This is the year!” “I hope so…” “You’re ready Bro! You’re ready to be elite…” I pondered what exactly he meant by elite as I ran through the final little stretch of Queens and prepared myself mentally for my grand entrance into the abyss.

Mile 15 – 6:48; Mile 16 – 6:53; Avg Marathon Pace – 6:47

On one level, the Queensboro Bridge can be merely thought of as the conduit by which the marathon course finds its way back to Manhattan after a scenic tour through the best parts of Brooklyn and the worse parts of Queens. But on a deeper and more personal level, running this bridge is a little like suffering through hell on earth and anticipating a figurative and spiritual redemption on the other side. During the long climb up, there are no smiles, there is no talk. Lights are turned dim. Breaths and footfalls, our only companion. This is the place where I usually say a quick eulogy to my pace as it slips effortlessly into the 7 minute range with no chance of recovery. But today I find my legs not following the script. I’m moving with the same consistent effort I was moving before but somehow I’m moving faster. I can tell this because I’m passing through the crowd in waves. First I pass by J who didn’t have the energy to reciprocate my friendly wave (He eventually finished in 3:14). Then I pass by Italian guy who almost ran me over to get his water at Mile 10.5. It was a bit exhilarating as I silently claimed victory over this bridge that had given me trouble for so many times years before. Pretty soon, almost as quickly as it had started, it was over, I was done. I had crested the bridge and was now on my way down. As I feel my legs increase their turnover and stride, my body is shaking and I am overcome by giddiness for the welcome that awaits me in Manhattan.

Mile 17 – 6:52; Mile 18 – 6:44; Avg Marathon Pace – 6:47

I reach a new state of running nirvana whenever I emerge through the shadows of the Queensboro bridge onto the east side of Manhattan in the New York City Marathon, and today is no exception. Thousands of friends and fans piled ten deep populate the slidelines and yell like hell upon my arrival. I pump my fist and wave to the crowd to show my appreciation. I don’t know if any of them was cheering specifically for me but I felt loved as a New Yorker anyway.

I make the turn onto First Avenue and focus my thoughts on who I was supposed to see. Although this particular race lacked the fanfare of yesteryear, I was excited to see my friend EW stationed at 68th St on the east side of First Avenue. Although he is not a marathoner himself (yet?), he has never failed to make an appearance to cheer me on at every single NYC marathon I’ve done. I point to him, give a big wave and thumbs up and he starts jumping up and down. What a swell guy! I only wish I will get to be there when he finally decides to run his first. I thank him profusely for coming (even though he’s post-call from an overnight hospital ER shift!) and continue on my way.

At Mile 18, I pass by the Powergel station manned by all the Flyers who weren’t running this race. This was without a doubt my favorite part of the course. I’d been waiting and anticipating this moment ever since crossing the bridge. I see runner26, nyflygirl, and jb24 and couldn’t help but give them all big hi-fives in rapid succession as I did a fly-by with my hand. I also waved, smiled and say hi to all those who recognized me (or my Flyers shirt). Although I didn’t take any Powergels from them (I was operating on my own GU schedule at miles 10,16 & 22), all the Flyers gave me such a psychological boost heading into the last 8 miles that I found myself questioning if I had inadvertently fueled myself. My quickened pace in Mile 18 is a reflection of how I felt during that mile.

Mile 19 – 6:54; Mile 20 – 7:02; Avg Marathon Pace – 6:48

After the exhilaration of the previous miles, reality sets in at Mile 19. You’re still in Manhattan; there’s still 2 more bridges and 1 more borough to go, but somehow your body knows that the fun is over. There is minimal to no crowds here, and cheering from the singular spectators is miniscule at best. Physically, you convince yourself that you still feel fine, but mentally, you brace yourself knowing that the last 10K is going to be a drag. The crampers and walkers (those damn walkers) make their first appearance here at this stretch and you do your best to ignore them, avoid them, pretend they don’t exist. You let your legs dictate the pace but they are growing wearier with each passing step. You get nervous but try hard to calm your nerves. All you can see, all you want to see, is the Willis Ave Bridge. Just make it there, make it over, and then you’re there. So you climb, with a deliberate pace you climb. You allow the pace to slip. It feels like it’s taking forever. Eventually though, you’re there. Where? In the Bronx. Da Bronx, like the sign says. Might as well say Welcome to Hell, you tell yourself.

A Streak Is Broken, A Sub-3 Not To BeRace Report from the 2009 New York City MarathonPart II – The Start and The Good Miles 1-10

The Start

Something just isn’t quite right…

I am staring at the head of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge just moments away from the start of the 40th running of the New York City Marathon. On my left is a Grey Line double-decker tour bus which is being used today as a spectator station for VIPs. On my right, a couple of Italian runners are taking pictures of themselves with a throwaway camera. Although I’ve been exactly here for three consecutive years (and 4 out of the last 5), here feels somewhat awkward and uncomfortable to me this morning. A part of me wonders why. Maybe it’s the warm and wet air that is not agreeing with me. Or maybe I’m just not used to marathon day without pain. Or I’m missing my teammates and friends who are almost all starting in the later waves. Or I’m just anxious to find out if my 16 wk, 50 mpw training plan will translate to a sub-3 today. I haven’t got a clue. Luckily, there’s that whole other part of me that just don’t care. All it wants to do is just run and let the anxieties take care of themselves.

Against this back drop of minor insecurity, I hear the Howitzer fire, old Frank (Sinatra) in the air, follow the masses across the starting lines and begin my epic journey into the streets of New York City.

Mile 1 – 7:23; Mile 2 – 6:20; Avg Marathon Pace – 6:51

I was eager to stretch out my legs and start running once I crossed the starting mats. Unfortunately, some of my neighbors were not. I had not run more than 5 feet before I found myself behind a slew of older folks moving at slower than a walking pace. I had to literally turn my body sideways in order to avoid slamming into them. A few seconds later, I find myself again behind a trio of heavy-set ladies walking (yes, walking) side-by-side onto the bridge, waving to the cameras and themselves as if they had not a care in the world. Although I am one for taking things slow at the beginning of a marathon, walking in mile 0.25 is utterly ridiculous. Not only so, but weren’t colors, corrals and waves instituted to avoid such disasters? What are these walkers and slow joggers doing here anyway? I feel my pulse and blood pressure start to rise as I fought the urge to weave and bob climbing the Verrazano. Calm yourself Lam, calm yourself, I told myself as I patiently waited for opportunities to pass folks who obviously did not have the same agenda for this race as me. You can’t claim victory in a marathon in mile 1, but you can definitely blow your chances and lose it! Things continued in the same manner for much of that first mile for me. I was a bit frustrated but not overly concerned when I checked my split at the end of mile one. Although the time was more than thirty seconds off my goal pace (6:50), it was still eight seconds faster than last year when I started with a 7:30 mile one and finished with a 6:57 final pace. I decide that given the scope of disasters that can happen in mile one, if this can be considered the worst part of the marathon for me, this will be one helluva race! (I didn’t find out until long after that race that some of the charity runners got preferred starts and began the race right behind the elites and professional runners. Again, utterly ridiculous!)

Mile two was all about finding space, running fast, controlling speed, and making up time as my neighbors and I make the long downhill entrance off the bridge into the borough of Brooklyn. It was opening up some now and I was scared that I was running a bit too fast. I didn’t dare to check the Garmin mid-mile for fear it would growl back angrily. Instead, I bargained with my body to allow gravity to do as much of the work as possible and just rolled off the bridge as fast and as effortless as I could.

Mile 3 – 6:42; Mile 4 – 6:42; Avg Marathon Pace – 6:47

A sign hung on the first telephone pole off the Verrazano welcomes me to Brooklyn. This is unofficially officially the start of the race for me. An early crowd is already forming along the streets, trying to cheer as enthusiastically as they can. Most of the spectators here are trying to juggle their signs, their props, and their early morning coffee as they await the arrival of their runner. After registering the split from the last downhill mile and realizing now that I’m back on pace, I measure out my stride and begin to run in earnest.

My game plan for this race is to build about 1:00-1:30 cushion at the half way point by running steady 6:45s, or about 5 seconds faster than goal pace (6:50), then aim to maintain goal pace until mile 20-22, and then coast to the finish with whatever I got left. Since I’ve never been a negative-splitter and this course is notoriously difficult to negative split anyway, due to the all the bridges and hills populating the second half of the race, I figured aiming for an even effort run would give me the my greatest chance of success. Now, as I carefully and purposefully slow a bit to establish a comfortable and relaxed pace that I would carry for the first half of the race, I suddenly realize that my strategy for sub-3 is strikingly similar to my race plan from last year, when I had no specific time goal in mind – Run first ten miles with your head, the next ten miles with your legs, and the last 10K with your heart! I decide right then I will once again adopt that mantra as my strategy for this marathon.

Mile 5 – 6:45; Mile 6 – 6:44; Avg Marathon Pace – 6:46

Further along in 4th Avenue, the atmosphere is beginning to turn more festive. A pair of little kids still dressed in their leftover fairy clothes from a Halloween party last night are holding out their hands, expecting acknowledgement from the sideline runners while an older couple is busy distributing cups of water and paper towels to all who will oblige. A high school band is playing the Rocky theme song in the background while the conductor is urging the crowd to cheer on the runners. I’ve been hearing a smattering of “Looking good, Lam!” and “Way to go, Lam!” since my first steps off the bridge but the accents seem to have acquired a more international flavor the further along I travel into Brooklyn. I have never run a race with my name printed so prominently on my race shirt before so this marathoning above obscurity is new and completely foreign to me. I reciprocated the shouts of encouragement with a wave or a thanks until they became so constant that I was unable to keep up. Somewhere along the fifth mile, I see a “Go Flyers!” sign off to the side and I couldn’t help but pump my fist in acknowledgment. In the sixth mile, someone shouts “Go Laminator” and I almost pull a neck muscle turning my head back fast to find the paparazzi who’s identified me. Although I was trying hard to run within myself and maintain even mile splits and an even effort through this early section of the course, the jubilant cheers from the crowd and the sideline watch for fans and friends made things a bit tougher than I had anticipated.

Mile 7 – 6:42; Mile 8 – 6:45; Avg Marathon Pace – 6:45

The journey up Fourth Avenue is nearing it’s end. I can see the Williamsburg Savings Bank now not so far off in the distance. I pass by a couple of Flyer guys who compliment me on my quick pace and relaxed form as I run by. I wish them a good race and reestablish my seemingly effortless cadence and stride. No doubt I was feeling good and had to fight hard to keep my exuberance in check. In my mind, I was making a mental checklist of all my bodily parts and functions as if I was a diagnostician in the hospital. Physically, my legs feel relaxed and strong. There was no semblance of the hamstring issues that I had in the middle of my training. My feet were comfortable in the new shoes I had bought just for this occasion - a renewed version of the Brooks Defyance 2 that I had used in Boston. My gut was comfortable with the pasta dinner the night before and the early breakfast of pastries and fruits I had this morning. My energy and hydration also seemed adequate as I took care to alternate a cup of Gatorade and water at every aid station. The only hint of trouble as far as I could see was that my mind was just a little bit off today. For some reason, it didn’t seem like it was ready for a race. Was it fatigue from the long training or was it the leftover from the intensely stressful work week I had? Mentally, I feel as if I’m on a fast paced training run instead of a goal race that I had been preparing for all summer. I turn my thoughts to the excellent pace I have already established, my good physical conditioning and the intense high mileage training I’ve done and prayed to the marathon gods that the combination will be enough to carry me across the finish line in less than 3 hours.

Mile 9 - 6:46; Mile 10 – 6:45; Avg Marathon Pace – 6:45

Fourth Avenue has come and gone. So far so good. A series of twists and turns and I’m scaling up Lafayette Ave and rolling down Bedford Ave. The change in scenery is good for me as it forces me out of the mental funk I had been in during the previous mile. It is quite loud and boisterous here with music and spectators lining the streets on both sides. I’m searching for a friend who had pre-arranged plans to meet me here. Alas, I don’t find her. Instead, my thoughts are on a couple others who were out here last year but won’t be cheering me today because they are somewhere behind me running in this race! It was a year long struggle trying to be a good coach and helping them train for their first marathons even as I’m preparing myself to run a good race. As I watch family and friends celebrate and congratulate their runners with multi-colored flags, tee-shirts and signs, I smile a bit knowing eventually there probably won’t be anyone left out here to cheer specifically for me if I keep motivating everyone I know to jump over the sidelines and join me in this running bonanza! Haha! Inspired by this happy revelation, I march through the ten mile marker and eagerly await what’s to come next.

A Streak Is Broken, A Sub-3 Not To BeRace Report from the 2009 New York City MarathonPart I – The Aftermath

I had every reason to run well today. The weather was perfect, the fans were great, and I no injuries to speak off. But unfortunately, sub-3 was just not in the cards for me today as I saw my consecutive PR streak in my hometown marathon come to an abrupt end.

I have lots to say, but I can’t talk about my disappointing race right now. It’s too soon; it’s too raw; and it frankly hurts too much. What I can do is share with you my race results. They tell the entire story, mostly.

Again, thanks for those who tracked, followed, cheered and spectated today. Although I did not run my best time, I really felt and appreciated all the support out on the course today!

Final Statistics
Official Time – 3:04:20; Pace -7:03 min/mile
Overall Place – 1311
Gender Place – 1241
Age Place – 257

5K Splits
5K – 00:21:08 (Avg Pace - 6:49)
10K – 00:42:04 (Avg Pace – 6:47)
15K – 1:03:01 (Avg Pace – 6:46)
20K – 1:24:15 (Avg Pace – 6:47)
25K – 1:45:34 (Avg Pace – 6:48)
30K – 2:06:45 (Avg Pace – 6:48)
35K – 2:28:51 (Avg Pace – 6:51)
40K – 2:53:05 (Avg Pace – 6:58)

It's Go Time...NYC !!!

It's Race Day...Game On!
It's time for me to see what it takes...
Catch you all on the other side...

After The Curtain Falls:Tying Up Loose Ends from My 2008 NYCM

First of all, I’d like to thank everyone for their best wishes before the race, the shouts of encouragement during the race and the warm congratulations after the race. I consider myself very fortunate to have found this great community of runners and an honor to be considered a member. The race report to end all my previous race reports was just an attempt to pay my respects to both the race itself and my bloggy friends for their support. (I sincerely apologize for those who read my race report at work and had their tears jerked…it wasn’t totally intentional. I simply wanted to simulate how I was feeling during those long “heart” miles.)

Now that we’ve gotten through the mushy and serious stuff. It’s time to have some fun with race time numbers. So here’s an excerpt from the marathon results web page showing the five competitors who finished immediately in front and behind me. I’ve highlighted my race time in red and blacked out all the names to protect the identities of the interested parties.

As you read (if you can't read...just trust me) split times and discern paces, some intriguing trends become evident:

1. Notice how they are two, count’em two, chicks who finished within seconds of where I finished. To make matters worse, both are North Americans, and both are at least a year older than me. How embarrassing.
2. Aside from me and fast chick #1 from NJ, there are no other Americans within my study group. And aside from the 32 year old Italian dame who leads the pack and finished 9 seconds before I did, I’m the youngest of the group. [It’s mind boggling to me how there are as many 30-somethings as there are 40-and even a 50-something on this list]
3. Moving on to the individual paces. All the runners except the guy bringing up the rear of the pack ran a faster 5K than I did. Not only so, but even by extending the analysis to the half-way mark, out of the 9 other runners in this group who started out faster than me, only one (and a chick at that) ended the 13.1 miles with a slower time than I.
4. Finally, if we were to calculate times for the second half of the race as compared to the first half, we’d see that only one competitor (Runner #451) ran a negative split for the race, by more than a minute no less! Female Runner #36 ran the next best differential at +2:41, while I was third with a differential of +3:20. Everyone else ran a worse positive split.

I was especially proud of this last fact because running even splits was a major goal of mine coming into the race. Given that I ended last year’s race with a +7:04 positive split in the second half, cutting that figure down by more than 50% was a gratifying sign of improvement. (Now, if someone can translate these points into different languages and distribute them as pamphlets at the marathon start or the expo next year, maybe we wouldn’t see so much unnecessary bonking in Central Park. Just a thought.)

Finally, I present to you a race picture of mine from mile 25, I think…

I’m showing you this because it’s the only marathon picture that doesn’t have me with my eyes closed, playing with my bandana, fiddling with the Garmin or holding a half-eaten GU packet in my hands. Personally, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that my picture looks so much like this picture, taken at approximately the same place.

Yeah, so what if he finished his marathon in 2:08:43 en-route to securing his second championship in this race while I finished mine in 3:02:20, good for 1105^th place. Apparently, even though we generally looked the same (he was airbone a bit longer than I was and chose a darker shade of black for his running shoes, they couldn't find a spot on the podium for 1105^th place. Who knew? I'm telling you, the locals always gets the shaft!

On that note, have a great weekend, all! There’ll probably be another race report (albeit, a much shorter one) in the next posting. I’m scheduled to run a 4M race on Sunday to test out the speed fibers. It’s my first short race since early in my marathon training so I’m really excited. Unfortunately, I’m still fighting off the tail end of a nasty cold/flu that I’d been suffering from the past week, so I’m a bit worried that my performance will be somewhat hampered. Oh well, we’ll see what happens.

Rocking The Marathon, New York StyleRace Report from the 2008 New York City MarathonPart IV – The “Heart” Miles

THE “HEART” MILES

Mile 21 (Mile Time – 7:09; Total Time – 2:24:59; Average Pace – 6:54)

“Running in the Bronx was all you did when someone was chasing you for money,” Harrie (Bakst) recalled a few days before the marathon. He was mugged, he added, as a seventh grader.

In all the marathons I’ve run so far, I’ve found only one universal truth. Everyone dies a little at Mile 21. For most there isn’t a physical death per se, although some experts might argue that the instantaneous transition to alternate fuel sources once all glycogen stores have been depleted constitutes as metabolic death at the cellular level. Rather there is an emotional and sometimes spiritual fight that occurs in this mile that forces the marathoner to confront his or her own faults and weaknesses. Whatever the consequences of that battle are, afterwards, there is a portion of the former self that will forever be gone.

There was a part of me that wanted to just die in the Bronx so I wouldn’t have to contemplate how I’d ever make it back to Central Park. In the Jumbotron up ahead I watch the procession of limpers and walkers exiting over the Madison Avenue Bridge and am frightened by what I see. In my head, I’m trying to block out the memories of yesteryear when I used to be one of them, trudging slowly but defiantly back to Manhattan in a half-asleep half-awake zombie-like state, totally oblivious to the outside world. I sing songs that have stuck in my head, recite poems that I can’t understand, and hold imaginary conversations with loved ones in faraway places, all in an effort to not join in. I trick myself into believing that I’m a better runner now, even if my ever increasing pace would have had me convinced otherwise.

I eventually begin the climb over the bridge out of the Bronx and leave the shadows of my former self trickling in from behind.

Mile 22 (Mile Time – 7:06; Total Time – 2:32:05; Average Pace – 6:54)

The marathon distance is nothing if not merciless. Those 26.2 miles—especially the final six, where the real race begins—have the ability to expose even the slightest of injuries and create new ones.

I’m passing by West Harlem in a part of town that I’m very unfamiliar with. My legs are definitely complaining a little more now, but not so unlike what I’m used to after a weekend long run coming off a high mileage week. I’d already made the executive decision to acknowledge the pain but completely disassociate my mind from legitimizing it way back in mile 20, so there wasn’t a way out for me except to run fast, finish strong, and extricate myself from the situation as quickly as possible.

As a method of distraction, I chose to look around and soak in the sights. The crowd was dense and the mood festive in this corner of upper Manhattan. A school band was playing while an older generation watched and danced in rhythm to the marching beat. I had very little recollection of this mile in my previous marathons because in both instances, I was hurting so bad by this mile that my eyes were half-closed and my mind completely internally driven at this point. So this time, being able to see and fully appreciate the interactions between the marathoners and the Harlem crowd was a victory all onto itself.

Mile 23 (Mile Time – 7:02; Total Time – 2:39:07; Average Pace – 6:55)

“I am convinced that you can go through a lot more when you are physically fit,” Grete (Waitz) said. “It is both physical and mental. With the athletic background, you think more on the positive side—you can do this.”

After deriving pleasure from the cheers and good wishes offered all through Harlem, I find myself once again at the vaunted Fifth Avenue mile. Topographically, the degree of elevation gain in this stretch of road does not hold a light to the intermittent but hilly terrain of Central Park, where I’ve been consistently training over the past year. However, given its location on the course, the mild but steady one-and-a-half mile climb (encompassing most of this and some of the next mile) on Fifth Avenue has always been the most treacherous for me. Not only have they invariably been my slowest miles in the marathon, but some of my worst marathon experiences (crawling for two blocks in Marathon 1, and hurting so much I was inconsolably crying in Marathon 2) have occurred here as well. In fact, I’ve often felt that the story of my marathon can be summarized by my efforts in these 30 blocks.

But just as in other venues of athletic performance, from the depths of some horrific circumstances can sometimes be found the most beautiful of life experiences. For every year, at this time, in this mile, when I’ve gone too far to just drop out yet am still not close enough to visualize the finish line, when I have perhaps overextended myself and have questions and doubts as to whether I should even be here running this race, I turn to talk to the one person who’ve always been there for me, encouraging me, pushing me forward, through any and all of life’s toughest challenges, especially at mile 23. I’m speaking of course of my little sister. (For those who never had the pleasure of meeting her, I’m sorry you missed out..you all would have really liked her…she passed away from a car accident when I was 10 and she was 8) I have extremely deep, personal, and emotional conversations with her every time out in mile 23 and she responds in kind by inspiring me, guiding me, and teaching me a few things I hadn’t yet learned about myself. So I know for a fact she’s listening. I only wish she were alive to see my run so well because of her, she would have been so proud.

Mile 24 (Mile Time – 7:22; Total Time – 2:46:29; Average Pace – 6:56)

If you allow yourself to say that maybe you’re working too hard, a lot of the times you’ll say that over and over again and then you’re not going to work hard enough. – Stephen Shay (brother of Ryan Shay)

After recovering from the emotional catharsis of the last mile, I finally reach Engineer’s Gate and make the turn at 90^th into Central Park. Once I reach these familiar grounds, I know for a fact I’m going to make it to the finish for the third straight time.

If ever there was a place I’d call my running home, this would most definitely be the place. For it is within these hallowed training grounds, once roamed by legendary and current greats like Alberto Salazar and Anthony Famiglietti, that I learn, practice, and display my sport almost invariably each and everyday. And although some may find it a bit dangerous and congested with cars, bikes, runners and pedestrians all fighting for the same two lane road, it has always suited my purposes just fine.

But even for someone who is as familiar with the park as I am, I can’t help but be shocked and a bit overwhelmed by the sight of hundreds of spectators packed like sardines behind barricades cheering me on while watching me run. I hear my name being called out and am startled. I look to my left and see my dear friend D.S. off to the side waving her arms and yelling my name. I wasn’t expecting to find her out here today, so to have spotted her right in the Park was definitely a huge surprise. For a moment, I remembered back to a summer ago when she told me I inspired her to pick out new running shoes after a long time off from the sport. At the time, that was a turning point for me for that was when I really understood how this simple little exercise can have far reaching benefits way beyond my own.

Towards the end of the mile, as I reached the back side of the Met, I find my cousin J.K. and her boyfriend stationed on the grass off to the left. She had made a sign for me with my name in giant block letters for all to see. It felt just a little embarrassing but so exhilarating at the same time.

Mile 25 (Mile Time – 7:09; Total Time – 2:53:38; Average Pace – 6:56)

“It’s about going father than you ever thought you would have to go. You have to go way beyond, to a point where you are uncomfortable.” – Rich Bakst (2007 NYCM finisher)

Someone’s holding up a sign that reads “Pain is temporary, glory lasts forever.”

I’m flying down Cat Hill and running towards the lower east end of the park. I knew I was in store for a big P.R. but just didn’t know by how much. I’m extremely sore, but otherwise surprisingly strong. I continue to pass by hordes and hordes of walkers and joggers who are fighting to finish what they’ve started. Some are hanging on to the metal side barriers for support. Others are stretching out different body parts with the help of loved ones and strangers out on the curb. I stare at the ESSEX sign towering straight ahead and keep moving on.

In my mind, I was perplexed by how even among this pact of faster runners, all moving at better than B.Q. marathon pace, there’d still be so much bonking, walking, cramping, and limping. Hadn’t they practiced this distance before? Didn’t they have a contingency plan for if something goes wrong? What’s the point of starting so fast if all you’re going to do is limp to the finish? I felt somewhat sorry for them as I calmly glided by, like a race car speeding past the competition to take the checked flag.

Mile 26 and The Last 0.2 (Last 1.2 Miles – 8:42; Final Time – 3:02:20; Average Pace – 6:57)

I am trained for this. In my mind I am going to fight to the finish. – Henrik Ramaala

I exit the park and take the right onto Central Park South. By the time I get here, I’m physically and emotionally spent. There are markers counting down the distance now; one mile to go, then 0.5 miles to go, then 800 meters, then 400 meters. I know they were meant to be informative for the greater running community, but when I saw them so straight forward and blunt, I couldn’t help but feel as if they were directly speaking to me, poking, taunting and pleading with me to sprint the remaining distance.

I passed by the spot whether a past champion once took an early turn off course, had to be redirected back and still had enough to recapture the lead and win the crown. At that moment, given my level of exhaustion, I thought about how likely I would’ve made the same mistake if a barricade wasn’t already set up there to obstruct the way.

I eventually do make the final turn back into the park. At 800m left, I decide to bear down and take off towards the finish. I close my eyes for one final time. In my mind, I am Paul Tergat running the final 0.2 miles with Henrik Ramaala in the form of two nearby Russian runners hot on my heels. I start to make out 3:02:XX on the clock above the finish line and make it my goal to finish before 3:03. I speed up some more, clearing out whatever reserved energy I had left. I count off the final steps as I cross the finish line under 3:03….officially, 3:02:20…capping the epic journey and my 3^rd NYCM with a 6 minute P.R.!