The morning started off with an extra hour of sleep (the only benefit of Daylight Savings Time ending on marathon morning for NYC) and smoothly getting ready to get out the door at about 4:45am. I double-checked the weather, and it was clearly going to be chilly hanging out on Staten Isand, so I made sure to put on a disposable extra layer of clothing and made sure to bring the cardboard I would end up laying down on in the orange start village, preventing my heat being leeched out from me. Slightly more than 1 mile later (given my hotel was at 31st & Lexington), I ended up at the long and winding line for everyone boarding the midtown buses at the NY Public Library to make our way to the starting village. Given that they never check whether you are boarding the right buses (i.e., not boarding before your reserved time), the line was huge. It took 30 minutes to finally board the bus and, despite our having about 10 empty seats, the bus driver closed the door and took off like a shot while some of the people were still walking back to take a seat. Not bad for timing -- 5:30am bus, and we left at 5:45am. Plenty of time.
En route, I took a brief nap and woke up in time to see the traffic that we were in on the lower level of the Verrazano bridge. Finally, we approached the area where, in the prior two years, the bus used to let us out (with two of the villages on the right) and where many buses were empty and parked, and we kept on going. "What the hell? Where are we going?" The driver took the exit and then made the first left, crossing OVER the highway. Oddly enough, the several buses in front of him (and then him) did a multi-point turn to effectively to a U-turn and return to the service road exit we had just come from, and made our way over the NEXT bridge over the highway, and kept on going. I was extremely spun up, remarking rather loudly that we are nowhere near the village and getting further away. A group of about 5 runners from Denmark were getting a bit concerned with all my commentary and were trying to find out what the situation was, and why I was so concerned. (I explained where I had expected to be dropped off, given my prior times taking the midtown bus.)
We finally made a few turns and wound up right by the Pink village (which is the charity bib village on the opposite side of the highway from the orange and blue villages). Oddly enough, despite our driver being 3rd in line of 5 buses, he backed up into a side area, allowing the other two buses to line up behind the first two, and then he turned out in the opposite direction than we had come, parking on the opposite side of the street before letting us out. (What the hell?)
We made our way through the security check and into the Pink village, and there were absolutely no signs visible that pointed the way to the orange and blue corrals. How the hell were we supposed to get there? Meandering a little bit, somewhat following other lemmings trying to find their way, too, I finally got to the road that goes under the bridge and connects the various runners villages.
Welcome to Fort Wadsworth.
I grabbed a bagel to nosh, and quickly found the Therapy Dogs tent. Lord knows, I needed to calm down from the unexpected route on the bus.
First up, Ailey. Cute little dog wearing a grey denim jacket that was very happy to have me scritch under her chin.
Next up was Rikkie. Very calm, sweet dog who was LOVING all of the attention by those of us coming into the area. When each of us asked to have a photo taken, his handler would have him sit up to make it a bit easier. Very affectionate, licking my cheek a lot. (Lord knows, he would really have loved that post-race, me being more of a saltlick, and all.)
Last up was Sensation. While she was yet another sweet (and very soft) dog, she was a little too hyper to really get her to pose in photos with anyone.
Sufficiently calmed down, I found a spot and laid down on my cardboard to get off my feet and conserve as much energy as possible. Shortly after 8am, the cannon went off twice -- starting both the men's and women's wheelchair divisions. That was basically my signal to get in line for the portapotties and make my way to the corral.
As the closing time neared, I took over my outer layer and put the jacket and pants in the donation bin and lined up as far forward in the corral as I could. I kept looking over at the entrance to Corral A as the time was ticking down, astounded that there were people entering up until the very last second. I didn't have a good enough angle to see if there was anyone who missed the time and, therefore, was forced to wait until the second wave (about 30 minutes later).
Finally, the time came where they let us move from the corrals onto the bridge to line up. (On the way, the national anthem was being sung.) I was pretty close to the start line (and this was before we all "crushed" forward), and there were lots of people behind me. More impressive a sight in person than in my photos.
The elite men were introduced, and then they were off, to the dulcet sounds of Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York." The energy was electric, as we all cheered them as they ran by us on the other side of the bridge, and then we focused on our imminent start. Less than five minutes later, we were off, being similarly serenaded by Sinatra.
I didn't have a solid goal time at all. I knew I wanted to be under 4 hours, but figured I would just go by feel as to whether I push for any particularly good-for-me time or not. I took it easy on the incline of the bridge -- the worst hill on the course -- allowing hundreds of people to pass me by, repeating out loud to myself multiple time "Take it easy. Run your own race. No need to catch them." Finally, we hit the peak of the bridge about Mile 1 and then it was a nice downhill. I took full advantage of the excess speed that enabled. Given we were on the left side of the bridge, the exit we took was a longer and shallower decline than if we were on the right side of the bridge (which I was on the previous two years). I took note of both splits and told myself I'd like to keep my pace inside that range (7:10 on the fast side and 8:30 on the slow side). Given that, a 3:30 was in the realm of possibility.
After passing the first water stop around mile 2, I recognized that I was already (and unexpecteddly) overly warm. OK, note to self: douse yourself at all the other tables. 5k done, and I hit 25:30 -- not shabby. Next 5k was even faster -- ooh, could I really keep that up? After 15k, it was clear that was NOT going to happen, and that it was highly unlikely that I would be able to get 3:30. OK, no problem. 3:45 should still be doable.
Prior to the race, I had gotten a text from my mom advising me that there was supposedly a sit-in going to be staged along 4th Avenue in Brooklyn (unspecified where or when). As I proceeded through the first 8 miles (after which we turn off of 4th Avenue), I kept looking about to see if anyone was trying to intrude on the course. Nope. Nothing beyond the random individual darting across for whatever reason. The police were out in force, and the crowd was kept at bay from the route by blue ribbon strong along the length of the entire roadway. We finally passed the tallest (?) building in Brooklyn about mile 8 (is it a bank?) and turned intothe part of the course where the police wind up doing the worst job of keeping people off of the course. They encroached so far onto the road, that there was maybe room enough for about 5 or 6 people across running -- very difficult to get around any pair of people that were running next to each other. Had they actually been kept on the sidewalks, it would have been a breeze to get through. Regardless, through the vast majority of Brooklyn, the spectators are out in force and are INCREDIBLE with the volume and fierceness of their cheers -- wonderful energy!
By about mile 10 (?), we were it Williamsburg -- a Hasidic neighborhood in Brooklyn where virtually none of the residents come out to cheer on the runners. (It's the exact opposite of the rest of Brooklyn -- nearly dead silent.) Rather, they simply go about their regular business, some giving a side-eye glance, and often walking across the course without paying any mind to the runners barreling down at them. There was even one point where an ambulance needed to cross to get to a call somewhere on the other side. Amazingly enough, too many of the runners didn't bother slowing down/stopping to make way for the ambulance. Rather, they veered to be able to continue at pace around the back side of the ambulance.
Mile 13, and we were finally out of Brooklyn running over the Pulaski Bridge into Queens. There was one guy at about that time that was running at an extremely fast clip through everyone -- what the hell? The only thing I could think was happening was that he was running a "Dead Last Start" race within Wave 1. (DLS is where someone chooses to be the last person to cross the start line (in this case, it would only be within our wave, I think) and takes on the challenge to pass as many people as possible by the time they finish. It's a very controversial game that several people play during the Walt Disney World Marathon, but I hadn't heard of anyone doing it elsewhere.)
Merely a couple of miles later, we made our way onto the absolutely quietest part of the course: the Queensboro Bridge into Manhattan. It is the most dreadful part of the course. It's a long, steep incline (2nd only to the Verrazano, I think) and absolutely silent save for footfalls. There were a couple of us this time around that tried to make some commentary and get some chatting/energy going, but no one else was playing along. I even tried to rally the 1st timers shortly before exiting the bridge "Hey, where are the 1st timers?!" and absolutely no one replied in any manner. ("OK, I guess there aren't any over here. Nevermind.") I was looking to give them a head's up about what was shortly around the bend. I was able to hear some of the cheers as we neared the exit, and was hopeful that what I was hearing was 58th St., prior to the turn uptown onto 1st Avenue. Alas, no. For the thrid year in a row, despite being 5-10 people deep on this block, it was totally SILENT -- no cheering whatsoever, despite the various gestures I made which are usually used to rile people up to start cheering. (OK, NYC is now "officially" no longer my favorite marathon. This is the spot on the course where I most need the energy from the crowd, and they've not provided it for three years, unlike my first two times running NYC in 2003 and 2004. London now takes the honor of being my favorite marathon, for all that's worth.)
Ever so gradually, I recognize my pace is continuing to slow. After getting through The Bronx and back into Manhattan, I took a look at the total elapsed time. 3:45 was still very much doable, and it seemed like 3:40 might even be manageable. We finally made our way along the slow, long hill that is 5th Avenue and got into Central Park. This is another part of the course where the police did an inadequate job of keeping spectators off the course. While it wasn't as crowded as the segment in Brooklyn, the most notable evidence of the issue was the fact that the blue line (which marks the shortest route -- the officially measured distance) was underneath the feet of spectators on the right side of the course. Heck, it was behind some of the blue-ribbon barrier that was up in spots. (What the hell?)
Down the rolling hills, out onto Central Park South, right at Columbus Circle and back into the park, it was a fast dash remaining to cross the finish line. And, yet again, I wound up hollering at many people "Move! Coming through! Get out of the way!" as I made my way from a sprint to finally getting to walking speed. NOT something that I ever want to do instantly - rather, I prefer takinga few dozen yards. Why people are incapable of moving to the side to stop is beyond me. 3:42:22 -- nice! Especially for my 5th marathon in 7 weeks.
It was a long, slow march for about ½ mile to collect all of the post-race goodies: our medals, bag with food and drink already in it, and poncho It was no surprise that so many people treated these various items the same way they treated the water stations -- going to the very first person at the front of the long stretch of table where the same thing is offered, and stopping dead to wait for it. Come on, people, go further down, take it, and continue moving. Do NOT stop until you can get out of the way. Sigh.
Eventually I made my way out of the park, down to Columbus Circle for a finisher photo, and continued my trek to the hotel to shower, change, and get back out to cheer on the back-of-the-packers. With all of the extra walking (both to catch the morning bus, then post-race, then to and from Central Park South for cheering, I tacked on an extra 9 miles to my marathon day. (Oh, my poor feet.) Dinner prior to cheering was a near repeat of last year (and my typical post-race meal) - a really good burger at Yardhouse in Times Square.
I got to Central Park South and 6th Avenue at about 5:30 and stayed cheering until about 7:15. Even though the thermometer was saying it was in the upper 50s, it felt like the 40s to me. There were lots of people still on the course. Some smiling, some grimacing, a few held up by fellow runners and escorted up the road towards the finish, determined to cross the finish line, despite the clear pain they were in. While I wanted to stay longer (especially if the barricades that marked the route were going to be taken own like they were last year - so that I cold make sure they all stayed on course and didn't turn into the park early), my feet screamed otherwise. I still had over 2 miles to walk to get back to the hotel so that I could take off my sneakers and use the Normatec boots. I waited until there was a decent-sized gap between those who had just passed me and the next who were yet to arrive so that the next runners wouldn't see someone abandoning cheering for them. On the way back, I stopped by the Winter Wonderland in Bryant Park to get dessert -- the apple cider donuts and hot apple cider that I had been eyeing since 2021. It was worth the wait - they were both perfectly timed for what I needed at the time.
I will hopefully be able to continue qualifying for the New York City Marathon based on time -- the time I need for my age group is 3:14:00. (I was actually thinking it was supposed to be faster -- that was the prior age group.) I would very much like to get to a point where I'm part of the 15+ club where you have a guaranteed entry into the marathon if you want it. (Granted, you still have to pay the high entry fee, but you don't have to worry about getting the spot.) Given that I think that qualifying for Boston 2025 is going to require being at least 8 minutes below BQ time (mine being 3:25:00), shooting for sub-3:14:00 in a race prior to Boston in April is a good goal that will serve double duty. We'll see!
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