My New York Marathon Adventure
By Tim Mitchell-Smith
As a first time visitor to New York in general, and the NYC Marathon in particular, there were a whole variety of sights, sounds, and experiences that made an impression on me. But my abiding memories are of fighting my way over endless bridges in a biting wind, the incredible support, and the skirt that 6th-placed woman, Anuta Catuna, wore to the awards ceremony!
The trip began in turmoil on Friday afternoon when a number of us found that we had been upgraded to a different hotel after the coach had already dropped us at the wrong one. So I promptly got my introduction to the delights of travelling in New York taxis. All worked out well though; the hotel was in a prime location just off Broadway and Times Square and only five minutes from the finish line in Central Park. Most of the rest of that evening was spent queuing outside the registration/exhibition centre to collect race numbers for the International Friendship run on Saturday morning as well as for Sunday.
After a surprisingly successful attempt to get a good night's sleep we set off from the hotel for a 15-minute walk to the United Nations building, the starting point of the Friendship run. This is a gentle pre-marathon jog (about 4 miles) through the city for the overseas runners. With the main attraction for me being the fact that you get a free breakfast in Central Park at the end of it. We soon began to realise that this is a major event in its own right though; at every street corner, more and more runners appeared. By halfway, we'd been joined by a huge number of cheering French dressed in matching outfits and waving huge tri-colours, with a similar number of equally co-ordinated, equally enthusiastic Germans striding along the other side of the street. The buzz had really begun. In the end, there were several thousand gathered in the grounds of the UN, flag waving, cheering and generally having a good time. After a few speeches and presentations, we eventually set off at a very gentle pace, and judging by the number of spectators cheering us on, you'd be forgiven for thinking this was the big event itself. We finished at the same point as the marathon in Central Park and settled down to a surprisingly good breakfast in warm sunshine and a party atmosphere, with a really good feeling about the big day.
Saturday night was spent at the official Pasta Party, watching what was described as a firework display. They were more like Patriot missiles than fireworks, believe me! You couldn't just hear the fireworks explode - you could feel the shock waves. I also met a very interesting guy who told us all about his experiences running a marathon in the Antarctic and also running the Everest marathon. He almost sold me on the idea - but not quite! I went to bed feeling relaxed, confident and with a target time of 3.15 firmly fixed in my mind.
At 8am the following morning, a lot of the cheerful anticipation had vanished. Temperatures had dropped, a vicious wind had sprung up, I was tired and in my hypochondriac state. I was sure I'd walked too many miles around the shops the previous afternoon. We still had three hours to wait but had already been dropped at the start on Staten Island, with nothing much to fill the time except queuing for the toilets. Still, you had to admire the humour of the man who had set up all the portaloos directly underneath a sign that said "No Dumping". All too soon the dreaded time arrived though and the battle to find a reasonable position near the start began.
After a quick rendition of the Star Spangled Banner, the cannon fired and we set off. The first two miles are spent crossing the spectacular Verrazano-Narrows Bridge between Staten Island and Brooklyn. The views across the bay from the bridge are breathtaking, although personally I found the icy temperature of the wind whipping off the bay took my breath away far more effectively! Fortunately, once we had cleared the bridge, it warmed up considerably, and I was able to settle down to a comfortable run through Brooklyn. The crowds were out in force, and really knew how to enjoy their day. The noise they generated made running the London Marathon seem like running through a ghost town. I was surprised at how quickly I managed to get into my target pace of 7.15 miling, and despite the size of the pack, I was managing to run quite consistently. There were a few panics though, such as the moment when I thought I'd done a 10-minute mile until I realised I'd missed the 6-mile marker and was actually crossing the 10km line. In fact, if I had any criticism of the course at all, it would only be that a lot of the mile markers were not very clear.
Halfway and I was feeling pretty good. I was exactly on my target pace and feeling quite comfortable. Then we hit another bridge. It just seemed to crawl up and up endlessly and suddenly the psychological boost that the halfway marker provides felt a bit hollow. Still every cloud has a silver lining and the downhill stretch into Queens was far more fun. But before I knew it, we'd hit another bridge. The Queensborough Bridge crosses from Queens into Manhatton and is a pig! You hit it at 15 miles, just as I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. It drags on for about a mile and it feels as though you're running on a dual carriageway through an enclosed metal tunnel. The fact that the other side of the carriageway was open to traffic didn't help. But finally, you emerge into the sunlight and turn the corner onto First Avenue to be greeted by a huge cheer, and suddenly it all seems worthwhile.
I found the support along the three-mile stretch of First Avenue an absolute lifesaver. I was really beginning to feel the pace, but it was difficult not to run with a smile on my face with the atmosphere that was being generated. At 20 miles, we crossed yet another bridge into the Bronx, the twist this time being that the surface of the bridge was like a cattle grid, and the carpet that had very thoughtfully been laid across it didn't prevent my legs feeling the pain. The most memorable moment in the Bronx came when we ran past a gospel choir in lull voice. Again, you couldn't help but smile through the discomfort. By this time my pace was beginning to fall away and my target time was beginning to look pretty unlikely. Still, I managed to hold on and once we crossed the Madison Avenue Bridge back into Manhattan, I knew I'd at least make the finish one way or another.
The final three miles are spent running through Central Park - beautiful, but undulating to say the least. The number of times I turned what I felt sure was the final corner for the big finish only to have my hopes dashed was cruel, but eventually the great moment arrived and I managed to put on enough of a sprint to beat the clock - just. My official time was 3.14.56 so I couldn't have cut it much finer.
The aftermath was hellish. It felt like I'd walked another 26 miles by the time I finally reached the kitbag lorry, and what had previously been a five-minute walk back to the hotel seemed to take an eternity. But after a long hot bath, I managed to attend the awards ceremony and disco in the evening. It's amazing the reviving effect a cold beer can have - I was still setting the dance floor alight at l.30 in the morning. Admittedly, most people seemed to be of the opinion that my stylish moves were actually my legs finally turning to jelly underneath me....
The remainder of the trip was spent as a tourist, with a couple of events laid on by Sports Tours & Dreams Come True and before I knew it I was at JFK airport on Tuesday night wondering how everyone was doing over at The Eastway. Looking back on it, I had a great time and would recommend New York to any of you marathon runners who get the chance to travel out there. Just beware of those bridges...
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