After being squeaked out of being able to register for Boston, and not managing to secure a charity bib for Boston, I belatedly answered the call to be a pacer for the Jersey City Marathon and was able to get on the team, as a spot at my pace was still open. In the last week before both marathons were held, I inferred from a message from one of my friends that they just might be able to swing a "miracle bib" for Boston, and I tried to gameplay how I would manage to do both races while not getting my hopes up too high. (There would be LOTS of driving involved.) To my mom's great relief (no offense taken here -- she worries), Boston didn't happen - so I was only running Jersey City.
I left very early on Saturday morning so that I could not only help out manning the MarathonPacing.com table for a bit of time, but also do some of my afternoon/evening plans (which I'll get to). Given the early departure, it only took me 4 hours to drive up and park at the expo. Amazingly little traffic.
After spending about 90 minutes or so chatting with full and half marathoners, giving them advice, allaying some fears, etc., I went and grabbed the lunch that they were providing to vendors (in which I had been advised we were permitted to partake) before changing to go into Manhattan. Nice -- I was figuring I'd be grabbing a last second meal in the City before the show I was seeing.
I changed in the men's bathroom, dropped my change of clothes and race stuff inside my car, and set out for the PATH train into Manhattan. In all of the years I lived in New York, including the several years I lived in Queens, I had never set foot on the PATH train; I didn't really know what to expect. Wasn't all that different from the subway, except that their speaker system actually had intelligible announcements. The biggest problem I had with them for the two stations I wound up using within NJ over the weekend is the fact that their signage was only sufficient to point you broadly to the station, but there was none that actually pointed you to the specific entryway on the side out of sight, so it's easily overlooked if you haven't been to the station before. (I passed it initially by a block before asking someone and being pointed to where it was.)
Once in Manhattan, I had to book it pretty fast to make my way uptown the 12 blocks to the show. But I couldn't help but stop and take a photo of an amusing sign on my way:
I wound up arriving at the Golden Theatre and got to my seat about 2 minutes before curtain. I felt like Robert Wang catching a flight. (IYKYK)
Operation Mincemeat is a very amusing show. There's good reason why it's run has been extended as much as it has been. In short, it's based on a real-life World War II operation where the Allies needed to convince the Germans that they would be invading Sardinia, so that the Germans would shift their forces off of Sicily -- where the Allies were actually intending to invade. That they were able to turn this into a fun musical comedy is truly something. Certainly recommend seeing it, if you're able.
Afterwards, I met up with my mom who made the trip into the city for dinner. It was a cute (if a bit loud) Italian restaurant I found between Penn Station and the PATH train entrance I would eventually need to get to. Very good food, and nice time catching up and chatting.
After seeing her off and getting back to Jersey City, on my brief walk back to the car, I decided to take a minor detour onto a pier to see if there was an angle to view the Statue of Liberty from there -- rather than either walking or driving down the 2 miles to Liberty Square Park. Nope -- I had no good angle given some of the buildings on the Jersey City side that were in the way. And the low cloud ceiling obscuring part of lower Manhattan was a good portent for the morning. The spire and top several floors of the Freedom Tower (at One World Trade Center) were totally obscured.
We had been advised in our internal pacer e-mails that we should expect it to take about 45 minutes to park in the nearby parking garages. I decided I would do differently. Rather than park by the start/finish line, I chose to park in Hoboken, a few blocks from the PATH train, and take PATH one stop down -- which let out exactly at the starting line area. Much easier, and no hassle. (And I even met a couple of ladies who would wind up joining my pace group for their half marathon, at least for a little while.)
It is relatively infrequent in my pacing experience so far that we get our own tent in a cordoned off area (along with the VIPs and elites) where there are reserved portapotties. So, not only can we stay out of the elements for as long as possible, we also have a much more manageable amount of time to be in line to make one last pit stop. While I was waiting for my turn, I saw a group of people clearly running as 101 Dalmatians -- some already spotted, others putting on black spots onto their white shirts. (There were only about a dozen people right there.) I asked one of them if they actually had 101 or 102 people running as Dalmatians, and they noted they didn't have that many. And then he offered me a sheet of spots that I could put on to join in. Sure, why not! While putting them on my shirt wouldn't work well (it was blue, so would be odd), I was wearing white arm sleeves, so they'd pop quite nicely on those.
I got back from my pit stop as the pace team was taking a photo. Thankfully, I was able to jump in -- they took a couple of more photos.
Shortly afterwards, it was off to the corral to line up, "round up" our respective groups, and go! It was a little chilly (in the mid-40s), but not too bad. The wind was light at this point, and there was only a brief sprinkling in the couple of minutes immediately before the start.
I was in corral 7 (of 8), and we wound up crossing the start line about 7 minutes after the starting gun went off. The first half mile or so was very cramped given the narrow street, but that was fine as it made sure that I didn't go out too fast compared to my planned pace.
While my Garmin indicated that most of the miles were longer than a mile (as is expected), I was able to adjust appropriately to make sure I was within the narrow goal time window at every marker.
.jpg)
Unlike several of the last races I've paced, this time around I had a pretty energetic group with me, willing to answer loudly when asking them how they were doing. I got a few sporadic answers to some of the more specific questions I asked, and had some brief conversations based on topics that were raised or random questions asked of me.
After Mile 12, the half and full marathons split away from each other, and my group became a fair bit smaller. But soon after we passed halfway (a little after 9:15am), the wind kicked up something fierce. Round about Mile 16, it was so strong, many of us felt like we were being linked by all of the pink flower petals that were being torn off of the trees and pelted into our faces from the side as we ran by. I was lucky -- I was able to use my pacing sign as a shield for my face. It was BRUTAL. And that wind didn't let up for much of the rest of the race. Several times, when it was a headwind, I would alert/remind everyone to run single file and use the person in front of them as a windbreak. Most of the time they would dutifully fall in behind me until we got a break with the wind.
While I had a number of first-timers who were amused by most of the signs, there are few times when a sign is unique for me. (After all, this was marathon #96.) But there were two that stood out:
"Free beer and sex at the finish line"
"Daddy, run as hard as Mommy runs her mouth" (held up by the mommy, with her little child next to her)
Similar to Miami, there were a few spots on the course where the runners were being overcrowded/encroached upon by the spectators cheering us on. Unlike Miami, this time my using the pacer sign to "swat" the air signaling people to move out of our way was actually understood. In one area, a guy who had a microphone actually augmented my signal and asked everyone to move back to make more room for us. Phew!
Around Mile 20, I typically make a comment about how the first half of the race is done, that the second half is just beginning. (From an energy stores point of view, that is.) I also ask what their go-to mantras are when things get tough (since this is usually the point in the race when things are really hitting hard for most runners). There were several really deep answers, as opposed to my trite "You got this!" One of them even said he reaches for William Ernest Henley's "Invictus":
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
And also quoted Dylan Thomas:
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Not things that would have come to mind as particularly uplifting, but apparently it's what gets him through. And certainly well enough, because he was one of the people who finished in front of me.
Given a conversation in the pacer tent ahead of the race where one of the other pacers shared his strategy of how he pushes his group ahead of him near the end, I decided to follow suit. At about Mile 23, I announced to the few who remained that I expected them to be in front of me by the time we hit Mile 25 or so. Around the time we hit Mile 25, without my saying anything further, three of my runners slowly drifted ahead of me. And whereas there were many times on the earlier part of the course where I would say something about "pull it back, don't need to be quite so fast" to not only indicate that I was going to be slowing a drop, but that they needed to do likewise to stay with me, I said nothing. And once they were far enough up, I said loudly enough for anyone else around me that they need to get in front of me by Mile 26.
As I crossed the line, I knew I was at least close to "the pin," but was unclear how far away from it I was. For those who don't know from some of my other posts, this particular pacing team makes a game out of our respective finish times. While we each have whatever time is on our sign for our respective goal, under which we are looking to get our group, our "true" goal is 30 seconds under the sign's time -- this is "the pin" -- and we have 30 seconds leeway on either side of the pin. (Just a different way of looking at the same time window most/all pace groups have, make sure to be no faster than 1 minute from you posted goal time, and not even 1 second slower than it.) It wasn't until I was sitting at lunch that I saw that I actually hit the pin exactly -- 4:29:30. While I've been closest once before, I had never hit it exactly. Sweet!
Shortly after the finish line and medals, they did a great job of providing the post-race food and drink by having everything prepackaged in the same large clear bags as what they used at bib pickup. This made it so much easier to get through and not have to worry about juggling an excessive number of things in our hands. Especially since by this time the wind was truly insane, and the fenced-off gauntlet we needed to walk through before we could exit the area felt even longer than the post-race area in Central Park after the New York City Marathon (even though it's definitely not that long). While they had handed out mylar sheets, they were so small that, had I wanted to put it around my waist, it wouldn't have reached all the way around -- so anyone trying to wrap it around their upper torso for warmth, they were totally S.O.L. While I was cooling down pretty quickly, I was just warm enough to not even try to deal with it. On my way out, I caught up with a couple of the people from my group who had finished in front of me -- they were very appreciative of the assistance.
Finally escaped from the fencing, I was pointed in the direction of where I wanted to go (as I had been totally turned around, no clue where I was). Being able to get back to the tent (sure, unheated, but totally out of the wind) was a godsend. I was able to change into my warm change of clothing, have a little bit of the post-race food, and wish good luck to a couple of the other pacers who were soon to be driving up to Boston to run in the marathon the next day. The double that I had been hoping to do. Good on 'em for having a good enough time to get in.
On my way to the original place I chose to go to lunch, I decided to look up the precise address (though I knew generally where I was going). It worked out well, because in doing so, I saw they were temporarily closed. So, on to the other burger joint I had been looking at which was only a block or two away from that.
Yes, it paled in comparison to what would have been my post-race lunch (dinner, really?) in Boston at Mr. Bartley's, but it was still quite good.
While I was dining, it started to rain. Thankfully, I had my duck umbrella with me, not to mention my New York City Marathon poncho. (Damn, that alone is worth the price of admission to that marathon.) The walk back to the PATH train was still a cold, wet, windy schlep. Both on my way to the PATH, and then again on my way to the parking garage where my car was, there were multiple times the wind was so strong, I was basically standing still bracing myself against the wind with the small umbrella as shield.
Finally back to the car, I headed up to my cousins' apartment. Showered and changed, I then hung out with the family of four (plus the older son's fiancee) for several hours before finally hitting the road back home. While they offered to put me up so that I could drive home rested, I wanted no part of the rush hour traffic that I would surely encounter either in New Jersey or the DC area, depending on departure time. The last hour was definitely difficult, fighting my fatigue. But I managed to get safely home a little after midnight. By the time I finally collapsed in bed, it was 21 hours after I had first awakened. Damn, it was a good call to make sure I took off Monday from work. Doubly so because I was able to watch most of the Boston Marathon on TV in the gym -- and was able to witness both champions (John Korir and Sharon Lokedi) complete back-to-back wins, and Korir even destroyed the course record -- setting it at 2:01:52 -- astonishing enough, but for the course profile that Boston is? He just might be able to chop off enough time from that on a flat course to break two hours! (While he claimed in the post-race interview to not be thinking about that, I think he was just being modest. How could he possibly not be thinking about that possibility?)
No comments:
Post a Comment