A Run to Remember

Friday was like the last day of school before vacation. It was all anxious anticipation. The time ticked by so slowly! When the day finally ended, I headed over to Javits with Chuck to pick up our numbers at the Marathon expo. It was a nutty experience so we just grabbed our stuff and ran home. (Not literally, of course.)

Saturday was a lovely day. I let go. There was nothing to be done and I became completely relaxed. I had a lovely lunch with Mary, who was in New York because her husband also ran the Marathon, and then I went for a manicure and 15 minute chair massage. (I was so relaxed that on my way home that I completely spaced out and managed to fall flat on my face in the middle of Fifth Avenue.) My parents arrived from Rhode Island and we headed to the team dinner at Carmine’s.

It was an amazing night. Having everyone in one room was wonderful. And we were so lucky to have David Hyde Pierce come by to give us his support – and make a surprise (very generous) donation that brought our total team fundraising to $323,000! (I actually think we’re even higher than that now.) He gave a hilarious and charming speech that left the team feeling pretty great. (“The longest run I’ve ever done was Fraiser, for 11 years.”) Our coaches gave each other gifts, and we gave gifts to both of them, and then we pigged out on pasta for two hours.

And then there was nothing left to do but run the race.

Our bags were packed and we were ready to go. We jumped on the team bus just after 6 am and all of our favorite people were there. It felt like a party. It was hard to grasp what we were doing and why we were there. I know that sounds insane, but it’s true. It didn’t seem like the moment when 6 months of hard work were coming to fruition. It just felt like we were going on a road trip with a bunch of friends.

And then…a lot of waiting. Waiting in line to get into the waiting area. Waiting to get a bagel, waiting to use a port a john, waiting to just go! Finally the 9:40 group headed to the start, and then the 10:00; and then our turn.

I was still, at this point, without any real sense that I was about to run a marathon. I was just excited and happy with Chuck and my friends. When the starting gun goes off, it’s still not real. When they start playing “New York, New York,” I’m dancing and singing as we slowly approach the start line. And then we’re running over the Verrazano Bridge.

Chuck and I started alongside Sara, Tricia, and Jason. It was cold and windy on the bridge but I felt good. As I had feared, we were going a bit too fast for my pace, but it was hard to resist the urge. It was the excitement, necessarily, like so many people say; it was more the need to be with my team, to do this with the people I’ve been running with since June.

We got to Brooklyn, still feeling good. Suddenly there were a handful of people cheering us on, and then the crowds grew bigger and bigger. By the time we reached 4th Avenue, we’re in the middle of the biggest, best block party ever. How could we not get excited!? Plus, I knew that in a few miles I’d be seeing my parents and my friend Ami, so I couldn’t wait to get there.

These first miles were a blurry, wonderful dream. I didn’t even feel like I was running (!!!!!). Everything was smooth sailing. Still going to fast – I told Chuck and Sara at every mile marker – but I didn’t care.

We reached my parents and Ami – mile 7 – and I handed off my gloves and arm warmers because I was nice and toasty. A quick hello and we were off again. I started to feel it a bit after that, knowing that I wasn’t likely to see anyone again for many miles. But Fort Greene was an even crazier party and we happily moved on.

Then: a very quiet neighborhood. Few people on the streets, and the people who were there were definitely not cheering. This is when things started to turn. Luckily, we still had each other. The pain was manageable and we got into bustling hipster Williamsburg, where there were lots of people and music and fun. They pushed us to the Pulaski Bridge – the half way point. What a glorious moment, knowing that now we were counting down instead of up. But scary, too: I have to repeat the same distance I just did? I’m already exhausted!

Queens is blurry, though not quite in the way 4th Avenue was. I was just pushing to make it to the bridge. When we got there, I think I pushed a bit too hard. The bridge is a long uphill climb and then a long downhill slope. Most of the people around us walked the uphill part, but for some reason, I was just so anxious to get it over with that I pushed Chuck and Sara to run with me the whole way. At the peak, we noticed that Tricia and Jason were off to the side. He proposed to her on the bridge! How does one run the remaining 10 miles of the marathon after something like that? I couldn’t have done it!

I was expecting a big burst of energy when we reached First Avenue, but no such luck. The pain was becoming substantial. We had some excitement when we saw Chuck’s parents at 80^th Street and then Chuck’s friends from work at 90^th Street, but after that we really started to suffer. At 100^th Street – mile 18 – Chuck asked if we could stop because his knee was bothering him so much. We walked for a mile and then started running again for the transition into the Bronx.

The Bronx is mile 20 – the famous Wall. We were definitely in very rough shape at that point. We allowed ourselves breaks for stretching and walked a bit. I thought about how we still had 6 miles to go. I wondered how we would make it. The bottoms of my feet were screaming. My legs could barely move.

By the time we were back in Manhattan, I was stretched to my limit. I started to cry. The pain was so intense. But we were still running! And luckily, at 124^th and 5^th, my friend Marissa met us and ran with us for the next two miles. We needed her then! And I was also buoyed by the thought of seeing my parents and friends again at 100^th and 5^th. So we kept moving.

 

It was such a relief to see everyone when we got there! I had a quick sit on the sidewalk, ate some Gu, and we were off again. Marissa stayed with us until we had to turn into the park, and then she peeled off.

 

The park. Still over two miles to go. We ran until we passed the Met, and then took a break for a bit. We were walking when we saw our friends waving at us from the sidelines! I felt so bad about that that we started running immediately – and then we didn’t stop until the finish.

I don’t know how I made it through that last mile and a half. We just kept moving. It was like my brain wasn’t connected to my body. I felt like the finish line was so close and I just had to get there. I had to get there! This had to end. It was too much. Central Park South never seemed so long.

And then we were back in the park. I caught a glimpse of the finish line and I welled up again – finally, finally! 400 meters, 300 meters, 200 meters, and then. And then! We are there! We crossed the finish line! It’s over!  WE DID IT! 5:25:48.

 

And we did it together, which was a very wonderful surprise. All along I had thought Chuck would sprint off ahead, but he stayed with me the entire time. I could not have done it alone, and I am so grateful.

 

Thank you all for reading about my adventure and supporting me and making generous contributions over the past 6 months. I think we achieved what we set out to accomplish. 55 Team Run to Remember runners crossed the finish line on Sunday. We raised almost $330,000. And we honored the people we’ve loved and lost to Alzheimer’s Disease.

Grandma and Grandpa, I hope you’re smiling

Now that’s a fun run

Last night Chuck and I met Tricia and Sara right after work for a short run in the park. We were sad to miss the group run on Tuesday, which our coaches banned us from doing on account of the weather. We had intended to go to the expo last night and pick up our numbers and check out the booths, but one last run together sounded so much more appealing. And I’m so glad that’s what we chose.

We met at 59th and 5th to head into the park. Chuck and Sara were wearing our Team R2R training shirts, I was wearing my marathon singlet, and Tricia was wearing her brand-new official Marathon long-sleeve tech shirt, which she had picked up at the expo earlier in the day. We were obviously a little group getting that final run in before the big race.

We entered the park and ran up the path to where the loop begins, and we were greeted by a giant sign above our heads: MILE 25. Oh my goodness! Mile 25. What will I feel like on Sunday when I’m crossing this spot going in the opposite direction? The mere thought is frightening. I had to block it out right away or else I would be paralyzed with fear.

A bit further up on the loop, as Tricia was giving us her insider’s guide to the expo, we started to realize that most of the people out running were doing the same thing as us – getting in one last jog before the race and checking out the park. We passed a group of people who looked like “elites” – super fast people with bodies born to run. Moments later, another fast guy passed us and shouted out, “hey, did you guys see Paula Radcliffe back there?” Paula Radcliffe! She won the marathon in 2007 (just 10 months after having a baby!) and holds the women’s world record of 2:15:25 (aka less than half the time it will take me). She’s expected to break her record this year. She was wearing a pink top and she looked about 15 feet tall (though Wikipedia tells me she’s only 5’8”). So, basically, we went for a pre-Marathon jog with Paula. How perfect. 

Shortly after that, we passed someone going in the opposite direction, just a dude running by himself. As he passed, he said, not too loudly, just so we could hear: “See you Sunday.” I love that! I LOVE it. It almost brought a little tear to my eye. It’s so nice how everyone is so friendly and encouraging. For a second, excitement for Sunday overrode paralyzing fear.

The rest of our jog was lovely. We only did about 3 miles, and it was comfortable. We ran around the finish line and rubbed the statue of Fred LeBow for luck. And that’s it. No more running for us until we set out for 26.2.

Below, a selection of pictures (all courtesy Coach Brian) from all of our months of training.

T-minus…

The Marathon is only 4 days, 20 hours and 32 minutes away. Oh, the time has gone by so fast. I can’t believe we’re here.

Chuck and I have both sort of been bums lately – neither of us has run since the last group meeting on Tuesday. I guess we’re both a little nervous about getting hurt. And also a little exhausted. But we’re hoping that our last group run, which is tonight, won’t be rained out. We need to be out there running with our team one last time!

This week we’re just resting and drinking lots of water and eating LOTS of pasta – something new every night! What a delight to go totally nuts on carbs and have zero guilt. All we have left to do is make sure we have our gear for race day, get our iron on letters so we can have our names on our shirts, and try not to freak out.

I’m really scared. Everyone is being so nice and telling me that it’ll be fun, just one big party. But 26 miles is an insane distance! I know I’ll cross the finish line – even if I’m crawling – but the pain! Can I handle it? I guess I’ll be finding out the hard way.

Notes from a plodder

Early this morning I received an email alerting me to this article in today’s New York Times.

Training for a marathon is hard work, no matter who you are. It’s time consuming, it’s exhausting, it’s depleting. But the hardest part is convincing yourself that you can do it. Believing that you have the strength to get through 26.2 miles in the name of something bigger.

I literally started from zero. On day one, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to run a single mile without stopping. Now I’ve run 18. And yes, I did it extremely slowly. Many runners can finish the full marathon in the time it took me to run 18 miles. But does that mean that my run doesn’t count? That all of the training I did to get to that point wasn’t “real” training? That just because my body can’t move any faster I’m not really a runner at all?

I don’t think so. So I’m shocked that the Times would publish something so demeaning to amateur runners so close to the NYC Marathon. It made me fee like a laughingstock. It made me feel beaten before I even started. It made me feel like there was no point in running at all.

And then it made me feel angry. It made me motivated. It made me want to tell the world that my team – 50 people who are fast, slow, and everything in between – has trained hard for the last 6 months with a goal more important than finishing fast. We all just want to wear our purple shirts on race day and help end Alzheimer’s Disease. We have raised over $235,000 towards that goal and we’re not stopping now.

So, to all the people way ahead of me who think I don’t deserve to be there because I’m slow: what are YOU running for?

Burnout

It’s a good thing we’re near the end, because I’m tired. I’ve been talking about running, reading about running, writing about running, spending money on running, and, of course, running, non-stop for 6 months and I’m ready for a break. A lot of it has been interesting and fun and it has been wonderful to bond with the team and meet great new people. But I’m ready to be less crazed about training. I’m ready for all this to amount to something. I’m ready to race! (Well, maybe race is a strong word for it, but I’m ready to run on a course with a bunch of other people and hopefully cross the finish line.)

This past Saturday we woke up nice and early to run the last 10 miles of the Marathon route with the team. There was a great turnout – 25 of us at least, including our buddy Mike Fox, who once again came up from MD. We started at 60th and 1st, ran up First Avenue, over the Willets bridge into the Bronx, (then some stuff I don’t remember,) back over the Madison Avenue bridge, and down Fifth Avenue to finish up the race course in the Park. I ran with Sara, Tricia, Jason, and Coach Jeff, and we did it in about an hour and 50 minutes, which is pretty good, I think. I’m glad I know what I’ll be up against at the end of the race. It wasn’t too bad (or so I think now – I probably had the good sense to block out what it actually felt like in order to get myself through the actual race!).

Tonight is one of our last group runs; I will definitely miss them. It seems like we’ve been doing this forever and it seems like we’re just getting started.

(Side note: all photos here in this post and most of the photos on this blog were taken by our coach Brian Hsia. The ones below are from the Queensboro bridge run.)

 

 

What if?

I decided that I had to do the 20-miler. I felt that I didn’t deserve to taper if I didn’t. But Saturday and Sunday were pretty busy this weekend so I decided to do it Monday morning (since I had Monday off for Columbus Day). When Monday morning finally rolled around, I wasn’t feeling it. But I went anyway, because I had promised myself.

The following is a list of reasons why it totally sucked:

1. dillydallying. I got up at 8:15 but didn’t actually leave for the run until 10:15. I think I lost precious energy and caffeine boost-age in that time. Plus I was getting nervous about the cold – I actually went out to try and find a jacket to wear before I left, and couldn’t come up with anything, so I ended up wearing just a thin regular cotton sweatshirt.

2. poor hydration. I didn’t wear the water belt because I thought there would be a lot of water on my route, but there wasn’t really. I think I only found 3 water fountains.

3. poor energy gel consumption. I had Gu before I started and then at the 45-minute mark, but then I forgot to have any more until the 2 hour mark. Coach Jeff thinks this was my #1 problem.

4. not knowing where I was going. My planned route was up the west side highway, across 110th Street, down 5th Avenue to 90th Street (water), across 90th to FDR, down FDR to Battery Park and then back up the west side highway. But it turns out there really isn’t a place to run on the FDR, and it’s really ugly where there are places. I was stopping and starting and disoriented. I kept getting confused and around the 59th Street Bridge I somehow ended up on Sutton Place, and then ultimately on First Avenue, where I ran the rest of the way.

5. which meant lots of pedestrian traffic. Dodging people is the worst. I tried running in the street but dodging cars isn’t the best either.

6. I didn’t finish. I HATE NOT FINISHING.

As I was approaching 1st Avenue and 18th Street I considered making the right and just going home. But then I thought no no no! keep going! So I stopped in a bodega and got a bottle of water and kept running to 6th Street where I could make a left and get to the East side running path. But I turned right. I didn’t have it in me. I was freezing and spent. It was about 12 miles, I think.

I know I just have to live with it and move on. But training is effectively over, and this was a really discouraging way to finish up. I couldn’t even get to 20 miles this weekend. If I didn’t have that in me, what if I can’t push myself to 26 on race day? Scary. I think it’d be best if I just forgot this weekend ever happened!

In the dark

Finding time to run has been even more challenging in the last few weeks because of new trouble – the dark. It gets dark before 7 pm now, which makes running in the evening a lot harder. Even if I leave work right on time – which is unlikely at this unfortunate moment – I still won’t be out of my house before 6, and then I have to walk a bit to get to the west side highway. So that means at least part of my run will be in the dark.

Then I thought I’d run in the morning, which I’ve only done once before. Guess what? It’s dark in the morning too! That was almost creepier than running in the dark at night. (This is actually good news though because it means I don’t have to wake up at 5 am to run.)

I got in two runs this week – Monday morning, 5 miles, and last night, 6 miles – but I missed the big 20 miler this weekend. We were at a wedding in Massachusetts, and I thought I could run when we got back Sunday afternoon. But we got back at 5, and 20 miles would have taken me over 4 hours, and that would have meant lots of running in the dark. So I chalked it up.

I’m 90% sure I’m just going to let go of that run, but if anyone thinks I really need to do it this weekend, let me know. Otherwise, it’s time to taper. I makes me a little sad that I didn’t reach the real peak, but 18 miles is good too. 24 days to go!