The return of NYC Marathon was November 7th. Unfortunately I have not been able to run for months because of a bad case of tendinitis in my left foot. I checked the calendar. I had only 20 weeks to go from zero miles to 26.2 miles! I had to quickly forge ahead with my training—damn the tendinitis!—and I am happy to report with time, patience and a ton of painful foot stretching the tendinitis eventually faded and the long runs grew long enough to race!
I had zero sleep the 2 nights leading up to race day, sadly for me this is now routine before any big race. Sleep or no sleep my legs felt fresh and I was excited to race. I had a long journey ahead of me so I quickly dashed out the door—took a subway train, to a ferry ride, to a bus ride, arriving before dawn at the foot of the Verrazzano Bridge on Staten Island. I did it! I have already accomplished my number one goal: I was there—The 2021 TCS New York City Marathon. The rest of my goals were simple:
A. Run a sub-5 (run under 5 hours)
B. Run non-stop all the way (no walking)
It was a brisk, beautiful, sunny day. Perfect running weather. 33,000 runners divided into 5 waves. When it was time to race we slowly walked up the ramp toward the starting line. Runners gently pressed up against each other until no one could walk any further, we then stood, and waited, for the signal to run.
To my right, less than 10 yards away, a small military troop stood at attention. The commander stared directly at us. Quietly he raised his hand showing 5 fingers. A little while later he lifted his hand again, this time he was showing 4 fingers. Then 3 fingers.
I was a little confused, so I asked the runner next to me, “What is he doing?”
“He is warning us that in 3 minutes the canon will go off.”
“Where’s the canon?” I asked.
“Right in front of you,” he answered.
“Oh crap,” I mumble to myself. There it was less than 10 yards away, the barrel of the canon was pointed directed at me!
A minute later 2 fingers were held up. Then 1 finger! All the runners around me turned away from the canon, bent slightly over and covered their ears. I was no fool I immediately mimicked the crowd.
The announcer on the PA system shouted, “On your mark! Get set!”
BOOM!
For a split second the concussion from the canon blast knocked the wind out of me. Hastily I regained my composure and shook off what just happened, I had no time to think—it was now time to run!
Running up the bridge, no one spoke, we all graciously absorbing the moment. I glanced up with awe—“Wow!”—as we made our way through the first span of the Verrazzano Bridge. 2 miles later the tempo rapidly changed as we exited the bridge the noise from the crowds quickly swallowed us up whole like a giant snake, block after block after block the cheers enveloped us. It was deafening.
At Mile 3 I did a mental running check. Eyes up. Arms moving. I felt good. The 10:15 pace I was running felt easy, almost too easy, I couldn’t imagine going any slower. I ran the next 10 miles through Brooklyn untainted—Flatbush, Williamsburg, Greenpoint—I was clocking a 10:15 pace every mile. My legs were turning over in perfect rhythm with the runners around me. It was pure bliss.
At Mile 13.1–the halfway point—we crossed over the Pulaski Bridge into Queens. That’s when I first noticed a small pain in my left knee, it didn’t slow me down, but I knew it was a concern. There were still 13 more miles to run. I was thinking, “how long can my knee hang on?”
Over the next 2 miles the pain in my knee grew worse. I decided to play doctor. “It’s a dull pain, not a sharp pain,” I told myself, “so it’s probably okay to keep running.” I then happily let the cheering crowds drown out any further discussion and kept running. Same pace, 10:15, right up to the Queensboro Bridge.
As I climbed the bridge I suddenly felt overwhelming fatigue take hold of my legs. There were no cheering crowds to distract me. No laughter. No small talk. All the runners had their heads down. I felt alone for the first time in the race. My pace averaged a minute slower. The worse part—I was feeling drained. Climbing the bridge was slowly sucking all the energy out of me. Negative thoughts started flooding my head. Did I go out too fast? Was my training lacking somewhere? Why was I so stupid to think I was ready to run a marathon?
Finally we exited onto 59th Street and First Avenue. The line of spectators on First Avenue stretched for 5 miles through Harlem right up to the Bronx. I tried hard to reset but I was clearly struggling to regain my rhythm. Friends yelled out my name at Mile 17 but I couldn’t see or hear them, everything was now a blur, all my energy was focused on turning over my legs. At Mile 18 my right hip started crying out. It joined my legs and knee in the house of pain. Most likely the hip was over-compensating for the weakening left knee. I was now running erratic.
At Mile 20, now inside the Bronx, it finally happened, what I feared most—my left knee buckled! It collapsed inward toward my right knee. I was able to keep running but my speed was drastically reduced. The problem was not the knee, the culprit was weak hips and glutes. I vowed right there that I will take my strength training more serious next time, but that was really a discussion for another day. Right now I still had 6 miles left to run and only one good leg!
Soon we were back in Manhattan running down Fifth Avenue. I was now running an anemic 12:30 pace. Embarrassing slow but I was still running. I made a promise to myself that I would run the entire race non-stop and I refused to break that promise. So I kept running while quietly praying that my knee doesn’t collapse further, because if both knees touched it would be very difficult to keep running.
At Mile 22 a drunk spectator stepped into the street and tried to force runners to drink from his beer can. When I attempted to slip by him, he swung around and smashed the beer can into my chest! Without stopping I pushed the boozer back into the arms of his intoxicated friends. One of them yelled, “see I told you nobody wants your stupid beer.”
At Mile 23 my son jumped out of the crowd, put his arm around me and gave me a quick pep talk. I spotted my wife and another friend but I couldn’t stop, I was afraid if I did stop my legs would lock up. So I kept running and I never stopped running. In a strange way the cheers really did carry me over the finish line. 26.2 miles in 5 hours, 14 minutes and 3 seconds.
I happily slipped my finishing metal over my head. It felt great. I missed a sub-5, but I did run all 26.2 miles non-stop! It wasn’t pretty but it was still one of the best days of my life. And yes, I will be back next year—smarter, stronger, faster. I promise.
