The biggest little medal of them all

The Little Rock Marathon has a huge reputation... for its bling. Every year, without fail, you see people sporting these medals that appear to be the size of a dinner plate! Well, it just so happens that Little Rock is among the various Abbott Age World Championship-qualifying races, so win-win! I signed up for Little Rock when it was supposed to be held in early March 2021, and then thanks to everyone's favorite "C" word, it was pushed to November 21.

In the lead-up to this past Sunday, the weather forecast was all over the map, but generally speaking horrible, calling for rain, cold temps, and moderate wind; even a possible thunderstorm before my expected finish time. (Give me rain or cold temps, not both.) I worried excessively about just how many different outfits and possible throwaway clothes I would need to pack. As race day neared, the temps moderated, even though the call for rain was still on. So, in addition to my usual outfit, I packed a few cold-weather items (Dunkin' beanie, gloves, hand warmers, and a space blanket), my plastic poncho from the Tokyo Marathon (in case the rain was considerable enough), and my contact lenses (which I wear instead of my glasses if it is expected to rain).

All the way up until going to bed the night before the race, the forecast was still showing 50%+ chance of rain starting about 6am. Damn. 

Then I woke up as planned at 5am to start my pre-race routine and to get dressed. I looked out the window, and was greeted with a cloudy sky, dry pavement, and no precipitation falling. What is the weather expected to be?

Wow! Someone took up my request and pushed off the rainstorm by 5+ hours. Yes! Temps look like they will be pretty much ideal, and no rain? Thank you!

Meander up to the convention center where the expo was - the same space was being used for the athlete's village. (So nice to have a warm place away from the elements to hang out, and one with PLENTY of real bathroom availability.) They had a vendor there selling clothing and other supplies (for anyone with the emergency of having forgotten something essential), some food concessions, lots of tables (mainly intended for post-race), a few games available to play, and several massage chairs. Sure, you're never supposed to do something new on race day, and I've never actually used one of those massage chairs before, but I figured... what the heck. It was occasionally awkward, but overall, it was a good experience and I think generally helpful.

Finally, they made the announcement for us to make our way outside to our corrals. 30 minutes to go. They go through the standard pre-race speeches, national anthem, etc. During the whole spiel, I was bouncing along with the music, but to the casual observer I look anxious and fidgety.

The wheelchair division set off 5 minutes before the rest of the field. 

And then... we're off!

It's a quick initial lap around the block to get us to 1 Mile and the bridge to take us over the Arkansas River the first time. As we go over, we meet up with part of the early-bird group that set out 2 hours before everyone else so that they could have the maximum 8 hour time allowed. Around a couple of the neighborhoods, and it was back over the bridge to get to Mile 7 of the race. 

While I was on the other side of the river, I met up with a couple of guys who were running about the same pace I was, so I asked them what their goal was -- 1:30. (They were running the half marathon, being held simultaneously.) I said I'd stick with them as long as I could, since I'd love to break 3 hours (though my goal for the day was 3:05 or better). They pointed out the woman that was with the relatively small group of people about 30-45 seconds ahead of us -- Tia, who they knew was looking to break 3 hours today. (Little did I know until reading the newspaper coverage on Monday that she was the 4-time champ, looking for (and getting) win #5 on Sunday.) I made note of the outfit and told myself I had plenty of time to catch up, if things were going well enough.

I was able to stay with them until about the time they broke away to finish their half marathon where the marathon course continues onward. 

Then came Mile 14. Around that point, my friend cheering me on in multiple spots called out that I was doing great. Presciently, I noted that I hadn't gotten to the hills yet. 

During Mile 14, there's a nasty (but mercifully brief) hill on the approach to Little Rock's legislative building -- very pretty. And a really nice downhill where recovering the time that was just lost is very easy. However, shortly after that comes a rather brutal 2-3 mile stretch of relatively steep uphill, with minimal dips to allow for recovery. 

Several miles beforehand, I had met up with someone else who was looking to finish in 3:05, and we paced each other rather well. But once the nasty uphill portion happened, he kept on going strong at the same pace but ever so slowly pulled away from me. I knew then that there was no prayer that I would manage to hit my goal.

OK, that's fine. Do what you can, right? So I finally get to the top of the hill and looking forward to regaining some speed on the downhill. Nope! This downhill portion is crazy steep. While I certainly went faster than my previous pace, if I were to do anything to truly make up a considerable amount of the lost time, I would have been risking serious injury. The entire stretch, I was pulling back on the pace to not overextend myself and go flying, the entire time saying -- very much out loud -- "don't go too fast, take it easy, pull it back" to emphasize the point to myself. Epecially since there was no medical tent there, and it would have been a while before anyone could have gotten to me to patch me up if it were needed.

Tired and a bit slower from the effort, I finally made it to Mile 20. This is where the one out-and-back portion of the course occurs. Knowing this, I started to count the runners on the other side of the road (just like I did for the Sufflok County Marathon). This time, I counted myself as #19 by the time I got to the turnaround point and knew there was no one else ahead of me.

I slowly gained on and passed #18 and pulled away steadily. While I didn't see any of the others, being too far ahead, I was feeling really good about my placement for the race. And then Mile 24 hit. While I knew ahead of time there was a hill there, I just wasn't prepared for it. A few seconds into the ascent, I bring it down to a walk -- I just didn't have enough in me to handle it. And during that walk, I dropped from #18 down to #23.

Finally, at the top of the hill I knew I could pick it back up again. Our course merged back up with the half marathon course, and it was straight on to the finish line. 

3:16:54. Nope -- there is no chance that I will be able to qualify for the 2022 Age Championships. Oh well. (That means I can forego running another marathon in December, at least.) I've done well, with approximately 6260 points (out of the 8000 maximum), but won't know just how far down in the rankings I am until the close of the race season at the end of December.

Apparently there were about 6,000 people who were running among all four events last weekend -- down from their pre-COVID levels. And there were a lot fewer people out cheering along the course -- some regulars were telling me while waiting online for the post-race massage that it wasn't well enough publicized, so people who would normally cheer didn't even know the race was happening.

Certainly a race to recommend.

Oh.. I almost forgot. The bling!

Holy mackerel! This thing is huge! Certainly weighs more than 2 pounds. (And, in fact, putting it on my kitchen scale, I found that it was just under 3 pounds. And, yes, it is the size of a dinner plate!

Update Jan 19, 2002: Holy cow! The Age Group awards are amazing. I found out in late Deccember that it was a crystal award that would be engraved, and it just arrived. Check it out. (Sorry for the bad photography - best I could do.)

If you're in it for the bling, Little Rock is *definitely* the best place for it, so far, that I've run. (Though the medals that Disney gives for marathon weekend are pretty sweet, especially in anniversary years. Don't know exactly what they do for their top awards.)

Weather!

A week ago, the weather was looking ideal -- pretty much matching the conditions of the New York City Marathon with starting temps in the mid-40s and a high for the day in the 50s. However, over the past week, that forecast has shifted continually. Higher and lower lows, increasing wind, and wildly varying chances of rain. As of now, it looks like the temps will be ideal (starting at about 50, with 65 being the high for the day -- which will be several hours after I finish, anyway), but there is a 50% chance of rain, and that starting shortly before the race begins. Ugh! Hopefully it will only be a light shower that merely keeps me cool rather than waterlogged and chafing- and blister-prone.

Out of Reach

Before all of the Abbott World Marathon Majors were happening this season, my one result from this cycle was holding me in respectable stead, though I knew I would fall in the rankings once the fall's races got added into the rankings.

Currently, my best two races are Chicago (where I earned 3140 points with my 3:15:33 time) and now the New York City Marathon (where I earned 3050 points with my 3:24:45 time). While it's nice to be 80th in the U.S., internationally (the ranking that matters), I'm currently sitting at 174th. 

For my age group, invites to the Age Championships go out to the Top 85. Alas, the people who are tied for 85th have a total of 6760 points. Assuming that no one increases the range of point totals for the Top 85 by raising that last place, that means that I would need to replace my New York City result with 3620 points.

The scoring schema can be found at https://www.worldmarathonmajors.com/rankings/how-it-works

In short, since 4000 points is the maximum that the age group winner can obtain (and, at that, only if they beat the "platinum" standard for the age group -- 2:34, in my case), I can only afford to lose 380 points compared to the platinum standard. At 20 points per minute, that mean 19 minutes. So, for me to guarantee an invite to the Age Championships in 2022, I would need to run a 2:53 or better.

Despite what my Garmin has been predicting for months  -- saying that I can run a 2:46:25 based on the data it's seen -- I do not have that kind of performance in me. Not at this point. Maybe some day I can get to that, but I'm realistic enough to know that's not happening this year, even if it were a net-downhill course that I'll be running in Little Rock (which it most certainly won't be).

My best chance is to do as well as possible and hope that a certain number of people are invited and decline, and that Abbott continues down the list to fill out a full field of 85 in the age group. I don't know that they actually do that. If I get a 3:04:59, I would earn 3380 points and have a total of 6520 -- which is currently 117th. Actually cracking 3 hours would put me at a total of 6620 -- currently 103rd. 

Well, we'll see what is in store for me in just a few days' time. Wish me luck! And even better luck next year. (Now to choose more wisely in which races I'll be doing to give me more opportunities to get into the Top 85, and in a new age group, for a 2023 invite.)

-----

Interesting update... after writing the above, I took a look at the list of domestic races to start figuring things out for next year. However, I have discovered a genuine possibility of *still* making it this year,  dependent on my result from Little Rock. If I can manage a 3:04:00 or better there, then having one more comparable time in December would jump me up to the vicinity of the Top 85, as the standings look currently. Hmm... Now to make sure my head is in the right place to push through any difficulties in Little Rock in order to grab that good a result. Having this glimmer of hope in hand is actually a great stepping stone to getting that result!

Medal Monday

New York Road Runners arranged for several things to happen on Medal Monday. They had a pavilion set up at the finish line area where people could buy finisher gear (all FAR too overpriced, IMO - epecially since it would rarely be worn), a copy of the New York Times (which included a special section on the Marathon, including every finisher's time), and get your medal engraved. I chose to continue my active recovery by walking to each of the different things I was planning to do on the day. Having come out of Penn Station on 8th Avenue, I quickly got a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich on a bagel, my special copy of the NYT, and proceeded uptown past Port Authority Bus Station towards Central Park. I still crack up every time I see Ralph Kramden outside of Port Authority.

I arrived approximately at the time that the pavilion opened for the day, and the line to get the medal engraved was ridiculously long. 

Not only did it snake back and forth multiple times right outside the tent, but then once it hit Central Park West and turned downtown, it looked like it continued for several blocks. No thank you! I would much rather take advantage of the *free* medal engraving at the Volvo dealership near the Javits Center rather than wait 1-2 hours for the privilege of paying $27 for the engraving. (More on that below.)

I had an appointment to go to the recovery tent set up to try out the NormaTec boots. 

Those are neat! These inflate progressively up and down your legs to aid in recovery. (I'm glad I chose not to do this while waiting for medal engraving in Boston, as I would have been in excrutiating pain given the state of my feet at the time.) Shame we only had 10-minute sessions -- I can definitely see why some people swear by these. But $900 is rather a steep price. 

After my brief session, I went back towards the pavilion to see what the line was for taking some photos, to include with the statue of the icon and founder himself, Fred Lebow.

It was remarkably short (maybe 10-15 people?), so I decided to jump on it. While I was waiting, I decided to take a quick look at the Marathon section of the NYT, mostly at the photo on the front page. Gorgeous, iconic photo of a large wave of runners coming over the Verrazano bridge. 

I unfold the paper so I can see the full scope of the photo at one time, and almost instantly I key in on one person on the bridge. "Is it really? Nah. Look again, closer." Blink. "Holy shit! That actually *IS* me in the photo! Neat!"

OK, I'll make playing "Where's Waldo" slightly easier by showing only the below-the-fold portion of the photo.

To help you out even more, I was wearing my standard yellow Marathon Maniacs singlet and red shorts, and the Dunkin' beanie I got just that morning to help stay warm. Also, as I was in the Blue corrals, I'm in the left half of that photo. Go on, take a look. We'll wait...

So, naturally I was shocked and happy to have seen this prior to taking the photos in this area, since I now have something great to highlight in addition to my 50th marathon medal.

On to Fred:

What next? Well, it was around lunchtime, and I had a mission to get some baked goods at Zabar's, further uptown from where I was. Off I went. By the time I finally arrived, I was quite hungry and knew that it would be a mistake to go into the grocery/bakery section before satiating my hunger first. (Never go food shopping when you're hungry.) So, I got a Cuban sandwich (really tasty, especially on the herb bread they use) and a full-size black and white cookie. Oh! I could *so* eat tons of these cookies, they are so soft and sweet, and the icing is spectacular. Yes, I'm glad I got that out of my system before going next door to buy some snacks for the office, a couple of things for my mom, and black and white as well as rainbow cookies for a couple of my friends and their kids.

Some people buy overpriced merchandise that they will barely ever wear. Here, I prefer to buy good baked goods. Priorities.

Most of the errands out of the way, the last thing on my list to do in the City was to get my medal engraved. It's a good schlep to walk from Zabar's down to the Volvo dealership, but worth it to continue the active recovery and to help burn off some of lunch.

When I arrived, there was NO ONE in front of me at the medal engraving desk. They took my name and the time, and immediately had it on the machine. Within one minute, it was finished. Nice. Where hundreds (thousands?) of people were waiting for at least 1-2 hours in line to pay $27 for engraving, I was able to have a walk-in for free. Thank you! Proof that it definitely pays to be in multiple Facebook groups related to your marathons -- you can never tell what information will get posted.

At the same time, they had the pace car in the showroom. And a couple of NormaTec boots. This area, there was no one "running" it. So, the guys who were using the boots were likely going to stay in them ofr a prolonged period of time; c'est la vie. But the pace car -- it was an easy process to change the time on it to match the finish time. So I did, and had one of the other runners present take my photo.

Alas, I had the mask on. Too bad.

This brought my marathon week to an end. Back on the LIRR and over to my mom's place, and on Tuesday morning, it was back on the road to drive back down to Northern Virginia.

Now to wrap up any last-minute plans for my next marathon, less than 2 weeks away!

Post race

The area beyond the finish line is usually one of the most painful parts of the course, because it is typically overly crowded, people are stopped in the way, and you can't keep moving at the speed you want and need. My vague memory of NYC 2003 and 2004 jibes with this typical painful experience. This time around, they did a MUCH better job. Whether this is a regular occurrence now, or merely because of post-COVID adjustments, I don't know. But given that everyone was receiving the ponchos, that likely simplified the process.

In relatively short order, we got our medal handed to us, got a bag with all of the post-race food/drink (as opposed to some races that dole it out piece by piece without even the benefit of a bag to hold it in), and had the ponchos placed aroudn our shoulders. Oh, boy, are these quality. Wonderfully warm and easily secured with the velcro around the shoulders.

We continued moving out of the park at about W72nd St. It was at this point that I got extremely frustrated with the set-up. They had lots of fencing and barricades set up at every single corner going down the park through to Columbus Circle. In retrospect, I understand why they were doing it, since they were setting up security check points for spectators trying to come into the finish area, but that didn't really help with my frustration at the time. Silly me, I kept trying to go south on Central Park West (and kept getting stymied by the same set-up), rather than walking a couple of blocks west to get well outside of the perimeter to then continue south.

I took advantage of the need to continue walking post-race to walk to the hostel to pick up my bag that I left at the front desk at checkout, and then walked the few blocks up to where my car was parked. (Still amazed at the fact that onairparking.com got me a spot in Times Square for 24 hours for $20.) While getting to the outbound Queens Midtown Tunnel was tricky (given how several of the roads were blocked off, unrelated to the marathon), it only took me an hour door-to-door. Wonderful.

And the stats that finally came through for my race performance were an especially nice boost.

2021 NYC Marathon

The wheelchair and hand cycle starts were at approximately 8am, the elite women's race started at approximately 8:30am, and the elite men's race started at 9am. Having heard those various cannons go off, it was now our turn. Kelli O'Hara sang the national anthem and then joined the rest of the 33,000 non-elites to run the marathon. This year, there were 4 waves (with the first starting at 9:10am and the last one starting at noon), each wave having 5 corrals. Given my great time in Toronto 2019 which I used to register for this race, I was placed in Wave 1 Corral D.

The last of the announcements were made. Then, the announcement we had waited what seemed like forever to finally hear: "Runners, on your mark..." after which the cannon blasted, and we were off!

Given the many thousands of people all crammed together as close to the start line as possible, it's a slow start -- as expected. It took me approximately 3 minutes to cross the start line (better than I had expected), but it was still a relatively slow start and I couldn't get a full stride. Given the first mile is uphill (the steepest of the course), I was fine with going slow -- I knew that the downhill coming off of the Verrazano was going to make up for it.

While I never carry a camera with me except during Disney marathons, I half wished that I was wearing a GoPro. The morning was beautiful, crisp, and clear, and just like my trip to the top of 1WTC, you could see (seemingly) forever. I quickly picked out the WTC and the rest of the skyline on the left, and it took me a few more seconds to finally find the Statue of Liberty, too. Gorgeous sights. And above and around us were about a half dozen or more helicopter buzzing about. They seemed like dragonflies hovering around us. No way of telling how many were police, how many were media, and what other possibilities there were, too.

The downhill in Mile 2 definitely made up for the initial uphill. Mile 1 was about 8:30. Mile 2 was about 6:55. Oy! Slow down! That split is what would be needed for a sub-3 marathon, and the goal is 3:30. Don't blow up!

Mile 3 starts off still on the exit from the bridge, so it's still a fast stretch. I managed to pull back to a 7:30 pace, but was worried that I wasn't going to be able to pull back further -- I wanted to be closer to 8:00/mile. Mercifully, my prayers were answered when the 3:25 pacer (running a 7:24/mile pace) started to pass me with his large pace group. "Yes! I'll gladly stay with this pacer." Must be fate, given the fact that the expo ran out of 3:30 pace bands before I arrived, so I was only able to take a 3:25 pace band. When I finally had the opportunity to make a comparison between where we were and the goal, I was about 40 seconds ahead of the 3:25 pace -- and stayed there.

None of the bridges have spectators on them cheering you on. On the Verrazano, that's not relevant given the excitement flowing through everyone, all the pent-up adrenaline finally let loose, and the gorgeous views to enjoy. Spectators become important once we finally land in Brooklyn. The early miles were not as packed as one would expect, but those who were lining the sidewalks were definitely enthusiastic. "You got this!" said in the stereotypical Brooklyn "fuhgedaboutit" accent was prevalent. Most of the signs are the typical ones you see on most marathons. Though there was one "Let's Go Brandon" sign, surprisingly enough. By the time we got to about Mile 5, the crowds were as large and loud as expected.

Around Mile 11 (?) we got to the Hassidic neighborhood in Williamsburg. Aside from the bridges (where it's truly impractical or downright impossible for spectators to be present), this is always the worst part of the course from a support perspective -- it is a huge energy suck. Why? Because there's just about no one from the neighbor out supporting the runners. The few Hasids that were walking about were clearly doing their normal Sunday routine, paying no attention to the throng of crazies running through their streets. Shockingly enough, there was a small group on the right side of the road who sounded like they were singing a Hebrew prayer. Alas, I couldn't make out the words well enough, and didn't recognize the tune, either. It was a quick enough section to pass through and get back to a more supportive part of Brooklyn.

About Mile 13 we passed over the Kosciusko Bridge into Queens and, relatively quickly, made our way to the most (or 2nd most) dreaded hill on the course: the 59th Street Bridge to take us into Manhattan. We run on the lower level of the bridge, so there's no easy way to see the top of the hill well in advance like there is on the Verrazano. It's steep, silent, and feels like it just goes on FOREVER. If you don't believe me, the next time you're in the area, run across the bridge on the pedestrian walkway and see how you feel. Then remember that it's at Mile 15-16 on the marathon, when you've already expended a large amount of energy (both physical and mental).

Once you crest and start the descent to exit into Manhattan, there's a large amount of relief. For the past 17-18 years when I've recounted my experience running New York City (my 1st and 2nd marathon, in 2003 and 2004), I would get overwhelmed, emotional, and teary-eyed remembering how immensely loud the crowd was at that exit into Manhattan. I would always describe it as so overwhelming that I felt like I was floating for about 2-3 blocks before I realized that my feet were actually striking the ground. Absolutely fabulous feeling.

That was then. And that was even what I saw in a video of that section posted by a friend who had started in a later wave/corral than I was in. However, by the time I got there, it was surprisingly (and depressingly) underwhelming. There was no one standing behind the bales of hay that line the sharp curve. And the crowd along the block leading to 3rd Avenue was sparse. And they were mostly unresponsive to my gestures for them to get louder. (Whereas the ladies of Wellesley during the Boston Marathon totally responded to the same gesture and redoubled their screaming.)

Running uptown towards the Bronx didn't disappoint. Here, the street for the several miles we were running uptown were lined several deep and the crowd was very vocal. Similarly, once we got into the Bronx for the small stretch we were there -- great energy.

Back into Manhattan and we finally wound our way to the top of Central Park running downtown on 5th Avenue. This is the other spot that would be considered the most (or 2nd most) readed hill on the course. It always comes as a surprise to people who have never run the NYC Marathon that 5th Avenue is a hill. But, oh boy, is this one PAINFUL. It's not steep, by any means, but it goes on for about 3 miles, sucking up the last bits of energy one has stored up for the last several miles of the race.

And it was during this stretch that I started to worry about whether I would actually hit my 3:25 mark. Ever so slowly, the pacer pulled away, meaning that ever so slowly, I was slowing down compared to the desired pace. I tried to push it, but I just wasn't able to go faster on this hill. I knew that once I got into Central Park, there would be rolling hills, so I resolved to make sure to regain the needed cushion on the downhills.

We turned right into Central Park somewhere around W86th St., and at this point, the crowds were very deep and encroaching on the roadway more than they did at any other point on the course. It was nearly as bad as what the Tour de France always looks like. Much the energy exuded by the crowd are precisely what was needed to help kick up the pace a notch.

I finally got to the stretch of the course that I walked on Saturday night before meeting friends for dinner. I knew exactly what to expect with the hills and the sharp turns. Being mentally prepared for that last bit enabled me all the more to grind it out. 26-mile marker passed. "Yes, I'm going to make 3:25!" 200-meter-left marker passed, and I can see the homestretch and finish line. The crowd was going crazy, and I finally crossed the finish full-speed. 

The finish line is the most dangerous part of most marathon courses for me because far too many people stop quickly after passing the line. However, I need more space to slow down, and invariably wind up yelling at at least 1 or 2 people to get out of the way so that I don't bowl them down. This race was no different.

The 3:25 pacer was still in the early part of the finish "chute" area, so I circled him a couple of times while tapping him on the shoulder and thanked him profusely for catching me at Mile 3, having me slow down to that pace. Had he not done so, I likely would have run too fast for too long, using up too much of my energy too early, and ending with a slower cumulative time.

Final time: 3:24:45 (nearly a full hour faster than my previous time in 2004)

Marathon Morning

I was in a hostel approximately at 6th Ave and 38th St. This is a LOUD street to be on. And my room faced the street. (At least I was on the 5th floor -- top floor of the building.) There were large groups of people screaming and/or cheering and various times until midnight, maybe later. There was a little bit of loud activity in the hallways (but not as much as on the streets). Somehow I managed to get to sleep fairly readily, even if not terribly deeply. (My sleep the night before a marathon is never overly restful.)

And then I got my wake-up call. At 3am.

Recall yesterday's post. I set up a wake-up call for 4am. Yep. The end of Daylight Savings Time. The hostel's computer system doesn't automatically update, so it woke me up an hour early. Sigh.

While I was able to take advantage of the early wakeup and even take a little bit of a nap before the actual 4am alarm on my phone went off, it was still mildly aggravating.

Finally, after doing all my pre-race prep, I head downstairs with my blanket to wear, my start village bag filled with my race materials, and my bag with everything else to leave at the front desk -- I checked out then since I wouldn't be getting back to the hostel until after noon and I was not permitted a late check-out.

And, boy, was it ever cold outside. Here's what the forecast for the morning was set to be. Gorgeous for running, but dreadful while waiting around in advance on Staten Island.

It was a short walk to get to the southern end of the NY Public Library, where the buses were lined up. I was prevented from boarding the nearby bus. Instead, anyone approaching that area was told to cross the street and walk up to 42nd Street. At which point we were directed to cross to 6th Avenue (where I had come from originally!). And then crossing to the south side of the avenue, our bibs were checked and we were directed back towards 5th Avenue where the buses were lined up. Turn right and proceed down to the nearest available bus. The crossing of the pedestrian foot traffic was initially confusing, but it was clear what they were doing and why. While we were on the early side of this whole dance (working our way towards boarding the 5:45am buses), it would getting increasingly busy the later in the morning it became.

While the official program advised it would take 90 minutes to go from NYPL to Ft. Wadsworth, the trip only took us 45 minutes. So, while we enjoyed the warmth of the bus for that time, we had an extra 45 minutes out in the frigid cold on Staten Island.

When we arrived at 6:30am, security was really very easy. Only a few random people were pulled out of the crowd flowing into the starting villages for spot checks. The rest of us kept moving along. And despite some of the prohibited items, some obviously prohibited items made it in, not least of which was an inflatable pool float (to be used as a mattress).

There were a decent bit of amenities available (bagels, Dunkin' beanies (and coffee - which I don't drink), and water) in each of the villages. Having eaten my bagel and drunk a little water, I found a patch of grass to sit down on and draw my blanket around me. Eventually even deciding to lay down and cover myself with the blanket. That worked pretty well.

Once 8am came around, I decided to kick off my final prep. Use the portapotty, do a little bit of stretching, and put on the rest of my gear. (I carry Clif Shot Bloks and a couple of Nathan bottles inside a belt.) Off to the now-open corrals. It's getting real!

8:45am arrives and the corrals are closed. One last pit stop, and shortly thereafter they have the corrals proceed onto the bridge. Woohoo! It's been 17 years since the last time I was here. Let's get 'er done!

Pre-race recce and repast

There was little on my plate for Saturday. The day before the marathon should have as little activity as possible -- just rest (and eat).

I had decided that I would drive in to Manhattan and park near my hostel that I had reserved. Amazingly enough, through onairparking.com, I found a garage in the Times Square area where I could pay just under $20 for a full 24 hours of parking. (What?! Is this legit? Yes - it very much is. Highly recommend them.)

I arrived shortly before my reserved time, checked in, and laid out what I was going to need in the morning and pre-staged as much as possible. I even called the front desk to set up my wake-up call for 4am (to use as a back-up for my phone, just in case). I had dinner plans with yet another set of friends I hadn't seen for quite a while, so decided to do a little recce of the approach to the finish line on my way to meet up with them.

I made my way up to Central Park South and 6th Ave. and turned along the bottom side of the park.

Just after the 26 Mile marker, we are set to make a right hand turn at Columbus Circle.

And then make a sharp turn at the stage and into the park.

The last .2 miles comprise a couple of rolling hills and the final stretch is tantaizingly close.

Until finally reaching the goal:

Having gotten a decent look at what the last stretch of the race had in store for me (which certainly helped out as I neared the finish the next day), I made my way down to tonight's destination for dinner with friends: Mee Noodle (at 53rd & 9th). I hadn't been there for likely over 20 years, since I hadn't worked in that vicinity since CBS moved ATWT out of the CBS Broadcast Center on 57th St. and into AW's former studio in Brooklyn.

We had a great dinner and a fun time catching up with each other. We took a large amount of time - nice and relaxing. No, none of us even seemed to contemplate photos, not as a group nor of the food.

After about 2 hours, we made our separate ways. I walked back to my hostel room and finished setting up what I would need for the morning. Eventually deciding to go to sleep. Or at least try to.

NYC Marathon Expo

Between my tardiness and a delayed arrival by my friend David, we didn't wind up getting into the expo until about 4:45pm. Good enough for my time frame for getting in. (There was no telling how anal they were going to be about people arriving outside their reserved timeframe.)

Most of the time, I blow through expos. There's generally very little I want to buy there, and little that is of sufficient interest. That said, I do appreciate a good expo that has a lot of variety. I vaguely have a memory of the 2003 and 2004 expos for NYC Marathon being HUGE and chaotic. (Maybe because those were my first two marathons ever and I didn't have a clue?) Well, such is no longer the case. It was truly sad to see just how small the space was.

Apart from the packet and t-shirt pickup, and the New Balance merchandise area, there was very little available. Small stalls for their other sponsors and a few others beyond that. The only one that was of any interest to me is the Abbott World Marathon Majors area, where they have the Wall of Fame (with the names of everyone who has finished the six World Marathon Majors).

While I have a 6-star medal (having completed the quest in London in April 2019), I am still trying to qualify for the Age Championships. I didn't realize previously that they had a medal for that on display in their booth. This is what I'm chasing:

While I wasn't planning on trying for a time in New York that would shoot me back up in the standings for my age group to qualify (the race is too difficult for that), my plan is to use Little Rock to get the points sufficient enough when added to my Chicago result to have me qualify. Fingers crossed.

David and I took our leisurely time through the small expo, but the time was growing short, and I was down to 2% battery life on my phone. With no "brick" to recharge the phone at all, not knowing my other friend's phone number off-hand (to call from David's phone), and therefore wanting to make sure I catch my planned LIRR train out of NY on time, I make a hasty exit. (No, we never took a photo together.)

10 minutes. To go from Javits Center onto a train (on an as-yet unknown track) in Penn Station. Is that really doable?

RUN!!!

Light after light, I managed to catch all of the green lights going crosstown. Doing a moderate pace (since I was still very much feeling my lunch in my side), I kept looking at my watch as the time ticked ever closer. Top of the escalator, and I have about two minutes left, according to my watch. But not necessarily matching the time that LIRR is using. HURRY!

I figuratively flew down the stairs, found the display board with the track assignments on in. Track 18... got it.

I got to the top of the staircase and hear the dreaded announcement "Final call for hte train to Hempstead. Final call, Track 18."

"SHIT! I need to get down these stairs without killing myself." (Those who have taken these stairs before know that it would be far too easy to take a tumble when rushing down them.)

I reached the bottom unscathed, heard the chimes of the closing doors, and made a sharp turn to get to the closest door. A guy standing on the inside of the train at the door made a half-hearted attempt to keep the door from shutting to at least save face.

The doors seem to have shut. "Damn! No you don't!"

I get my hand on the edge of the door (which seems like it had maybe an inch of an opening remaining) and push as hard as possible. "You are not leaving without me!"

The doors "hiccup" open for about 1-2 seconds. Enough time and enough of a space for me to slip inside, expo bag in hand. Exhausted, immensely overheated, and highly relieved to have caught the train.

Talk about stress! One cascading set of delays from an otherwise well-scheduled and enjoyable day. I'm so glad this was all on Friday, so that I could take Saturday to relax. It would have been detrimental to have that much stress the night before the marathon.

My Mecca

Having left the observation deck at 2pm, there was a decent chance I could actually make it to SoHo for lunch at 2:30pm. I knew what subway line to go on, what direction and stop, and the walking directions for the last few blocks. Simple, right?

I found myself at the far side of the Oculus, needing to walk to the other end to enter Fulton Center's subway station. Simple. All I need to do is follow the signs for the J and get on in the right direction. Not simple.

All of the signs told me to go down to the platform where the A & C arrive. I dutifully did so.

And then the signs on the platform talk about using the elevators to get to the J & Z. Oooookay. Strange, but fine. 

After doing this a couple of times, and getting to the same stretch of platform and hallway and not seeing anyone who works in the station, I ask someone on the platform for assistance. She pointed my upstairs, but it turns out where she pointed me showed me to the same thing I had seen before -- a sign to the platform that would take me in the WRONG direction on the line I wanted. WTF?!!! I texted my friend to let her know about my difficulties, and that I would be late. Unknown how late.

I was going in insane circles, ranting ever louder, for TWENTY MINUTES before someone else who was going to the same line in the same directions overheard me and beckoned me to follow.

Elevator down to A & C platform. Check -- been there, done that. Turn and proceed down platform. Check -- been there, done that. Pass multiple staircases and elevators. (Hmm... all the signs said to take the elevators. Why pass any?) 

Go to the LAST elevator on the far end of the platform and take THAT one up to the J & Z. (Why the hell didn't you say that on the signs, MTA? WTF?!!!)

Thankfully, since the last time I was in the subway system, they have installed signs that display the length of time until the next trains arrive. 8 minutes until mine arrives. I dutifully text Karen to let her know so she can figure out about when I would be there. (She was also running late, given her train was taking a long time to arrive.)

Turns out we finally arrived at the same time.

Little did I know when I took this photo that there was a long line outside (mostly because of the reduced seating inside). The line went pretty fast, though the lines inside were very slow. (In fact, two of the lines that Karen stood on had actually been "closed" at the person in front of her.)

Shockingly enough, the person in front of me, who was getting a pastrami/corned beef sandwich, actually offered up some of the "samples" that the guy at the counter provided him. I gladly obliged a piece of the pastrami (not about to turn that down). He wound up offering again. Twist my arm...

After we got our sandwiches and pickles, matzo ball soup, drinks, and french fries, we lucked out with a table immediately next to us having just been cleared/wiped down. Snag it!

We both took the obligatory photos of our food to commemorate the meal. Mine:

Close-up:

Oh, boy! Was this worth the wait. As always, scrumptious. No deli better, no matter what a certain Boston-native friend insists on. (2nd Ave. Deli is good, but it's no Katz's, Ben.)

Given how late I was getting to lunch, let alone how long it took to get our food before we sat down to eat, catch up, and talk a bit about our plans for the marathon, I was guaranteed to be late to my next appointment, ostensibly the most important one of the day -- going into the expo where I was to pick up my bib (a requirement for running the marathon). I was meeting a different friend there, who was interested in seeing what the expo was like. Given the pandemic, NYRR decided that the expo would not be open to the general public (as it otherwise normally is), so only runners plus one additional person could enter (upon proof of vaccination being presented). So, he needed me to be there in order for him to get in. While en route to lunch, I pinged him to let him know I would ping him when I finally left the restaurant to give him an ETA.

Having finished our lunch, we continued the conversation en route via subway to Penn Station, where we would go our separate directions. Right before we did, she realized... oh, no, we didn't take a photo of the two of us in front of Katz's. Well, next best thing... Empire State Building.

Off to the Jacob Javits Center. About 30 minutes behind schedule. Ugh!

On a Clear Day...

...you can see forever. 

And, just like Tuesday, September 11, 2001, this was a gorgeous, clear day (though much chillier). Having taken several hours on my own in the very somber 9/11 museum (which is a little too overwhelming to post the photos, IMO), I was getting really close to the time I needed to leave in order to meet up with a marathoner friend for lunch at Katz's. Thankfully, despite the time on my pre-purchased ticket for the SkyPod (ride to the top of One World Trade Center) being identical to my appointed lunch time, they were willing and able to let me in early; the time on the ticket didn't matter.

And, damn, was it an impressive sight!

After this brief tease in a "pre-show" area, we made our way to the next room (where we could rent a guide that points out various landmarks), go downstairs to take a standard tourist photo superimposed on the scenery (I never bother) and to a cafe, and go down one more floor to a space that has a 360-degree view out from 1WTC. And, damn, was it a bright, clear day. (Some of the photos didn't come out given the reflections and glare.)

One shot I was surprised I had a good enough angle to take: Governor's Island, Ellis Island/Statue of Liberty, and Verrazano-Narrows bridge.

 Our 1st bridge of the marathon route - Verrazano-Narrows - and the Statue of Liberty, closer up.

Slightly tricky photos, given some of the glare.

St. Paul's Chapel

View of the Oculus from high above and part of the memorial:

While I missed taking video during the ride up to the top (which basically showed the development of Manahattan Island through present day -- and which had the noticeable vanishing of the Twin Towers during the timelapse), I was faster on the trigger for the video they played on the descent.

Cutting it close, but it just turning about 2pm and having a plan to meet up at Katz's at 2:30pm, I was feeling confident that I could be on time.