Marathon Post About My Marathon

I cannot even believe marathon day has come and gone!

It was an amazing, incredible experience.

And maybe this is obvious, but can I just tell you that marathons are not easy?

Like, they are really, really hard.

It was probably around a million times harder than I expected.

Regardless, I can't wait to do it again.

But let's start at the beginning...

When my alarm went off at 4:30am, I was so giddy with excitment that the day had finally come! I was going to put my months of training to use!!

Here's the intense spreadsheet I used to track my training

I was ready for this. I put on my race clothes, packed up my water belt, and bundled up to face the cold.

Jed drove me down to Times Square to catch the Robin Hood bus to the starting line on Staten Island. I told him I'd see him at the finish line, kissed him goodbye, and was on my way.

Absolutely thrilled to be riding the bus toward my first marathon

The busses dropped off all 45,000 runners in Staten Island by around 7am. Because of the final preprations that had to be made on the race course, we all had to wait about 2 or more hours before lining up to start...in the freezing, freezing cold.

Fortunately, when you run for Team Robin Hood, they hook you up with a sweet tent to keep you warm for those 2+ hours. They also hook you up with breakfast and your very own, private, luxury port-o-potties. Like, the ones that flush and that have an actual sink with real soap and everything. When you don't run with Robin Hood, there is no tent to keep you warm. There is no breakfast. And there certainly are no luxury port-o-potties.

What's EXTRA cool is that all these perks are provided by generous donors so that 100% of the money we raise actually goes straight to the needy.

So grateful for the Robin Hood tent!Hanging with my team of co-workers before the race.

Trying to pass the time by posing with my awesome Robin Hood hat (notice the giant heating duct behind me?)In the NYC marathon, they have the runners start out in 3 waves spaced 30 minutes apart. There are around 15,000 runners in each wave.

I was scheduled to start in the 2nd wave - at 10:10am. Because of the huge number of runners making their way to the starting line, we had to head through the corrals around 30 mins early. Which meant more standing and waiting in the cold. Because of all of the waiting in the cold that happens before the race, everyone buys cheap sweats, hats & gloves to stay warm. Then, when it's go time, we all strip down to our running gear and toss the warm clothing to the side. The New York Road Runners club comes through after the race to collect the clothing. They then wash it and donate it to charity.

About 10 mins before the gun goes off, the runners are allowed to slowly make their way toward the starting line. See the ditched clothing on the ground?Somehow, I made my way pretty close to the front of the starting line so my pace wouldn't be affected by the other runners.

However, when that gun went off, it was pretty impossible to stay calm enough to run at a reasonable pace. The excitment from all those months of training, and all the hours of waiting to start, and the thousands of runners surrounding me, all caused me to start out way faster than I should have. Everyone had warned me about this, and I kept telling myself to slow down, but it was too hard!

As I realized I was actually starting the marathon, I thought of Jed and how much I wish he was there next to me. I wanted to look over at him and shout, "we are doing this!" I was so sad to not have someone to share the experience with.

Those first couple miles are over the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge which connects Staten Island to Brooklyn. I found this amazing time lapse video of the first 2 waves of runners crossing the bridge. Watch for me in the 2nd wave! ;-)

See how impossible it was to avoid being swept up in the momentum???

Momentum or not, I did pause on the bridge during the first half mile to snap the picture below. I wished Jed were there to see this awesome view, so I figured I could at least show him a photo. My Blackberry proved too difficult to get in and out of my zippered pocket though, so I didn't take any more photos till I crossed the finish line.

A few seconds after I took the above picture, I heard a girl behind me trip and fall. I paused and looked back as two or three men jumped over her and kept running - I couldn't believe they would leave her on the ground like that! Another man decided it was worth taking a couple seconds out of his race to help her up and make sure she was ok - and she was. She looked about my age.

Coming off the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge into Brooklyn was an awesome experience - that is where the crowds began.

Over a loudspeaker we heard music playing and a booming voice yelling, "Welcome to Brooklyn!!!" People were lining the streets with signs and noisemakers, clapping and cheering for us. Little kids held their hands out waiting for high fives from runners, and spectators, seeing my name on my shirt, yelled out "Go, Kate!" "Looking good, Kate!" "Keep it up, Kate!"

Everytime I heard my name, I looked for the source of it and would smile and wave in appreciation. I was surprised that almost every time I waved, people would light up like they were shocked I noticed them. I felt like a celebrity.

Around mile 3, I noticed the girl who had tripped at the beginning was now running next to me. I told her I had seen her fall and asked if she was doing ok. She said she just scraped her hand and that it could have been a lot worse. I noticed she had an accent and asked her where she was from - Norway.

Throughout the rest of the race, she and I would end up next to each other for a few strides every few miles. I'd call out, "how you doin', Norway?" And she'd say, "Feeling good. How about you?" After a minute or so, one of us would need to speed up or slow down, so we'd part ways with words of encouragement - "keep it up, Norway!" "You've got this, Kate!

By mile 5, the only thing that hurt was my face from grinning constantly. I could not stop beaming at the masses of supportive spectators, at the other runners, and at the thought that I was actually doing this! Again I wished for Jed to be there with me.

I felt so great, I didn't want it to end - but I had a long way to go still.

Here's a map of the course

I really felt absolutely amazing - as if I could run forever and ever. I was flying! I passed mile 7, then 10, then 13, and couldnt believe that I didn't feel the effects of a single mile!

That is, until I hit the Queensboro Bridge.

{insert dramatic, ominous music here}

Right around mile 15, we entered the lower level of the Queensboro Bridge. The first thing I noticed was the immediate silence - the result of spectators not being allowed on the bridges. After hearing bands playing, people yelling, horns blowing, cow bells ringing, children chanting my name, the sudden quiet was almost startling.

In addition to the quiet, the Queensboro Bridge also brought a steep, steady, incline. I immediately felt the strain on my muscles and the drain on my energy from going uphill. If there is a wall runners hit during a marathon, this was mine. And it came much earlier than I had expected.

I could feel my pace slowing dramatically. Up to this point, my pace had been consistently between 8 & 8:30 mins/mile, but on mile 15 I dropped down to 10:18 mins/mile. I was definitely struggling, and wanted the Queensboro Bridge to end more than anything else in the world. I hadn't experienced anything like this in my training runs, and I was not prepared to feel this way for 11 more miles.

Around this point, I started looking outside of myself for some motivation. Oh, how I wished Jed were there to give me some words of encouragement!

That's when I noticed something kind of special in the air - the enclosed feeling on the lower level of the bridge, being on our own as runners with no more spectators to perform for. The only sounds were the runners' feet hitting the pavement and our labored breathing. It brought on an unexpected sense of unity. Everyone's pace was slowing. Everyone was running up the same hill. We were all struggling together.

I was apparently not the only one who felt this way, because right around that point in my thought process, some runner from Latin America yelled out,

"Come on! We can do this! Come ON, RUNNERS!!!"

Everyone around him including me, responded by cheering despite our fatigue - "Woo Hooo!"

It wasn't long after that when we crested the hill and spotted the overwhelming masses of people waiting for us in Manhattan. We turned the corner off the bridge and headed up 1st Ave with a new sense of determination. The most difficult hill was behind us, and we had thousands and thousands of supporters lining 1st Ave, willing us to keep going.

I owe miles 17, 18, and 19 to each and every one of the 1st Ave spectators. During those 3 miles I almost felt numb. I knew my legs were hurting. I knew I was exhausted. I knew I wanted to stop running so badly - but I couldn't! I wouldn't!

How could I?? I heard strangers yelling, "Don't you quit, Kate!" "Look at you go, Kate!" "To the finish line, Kate!" I even remember specific faces of the people who called out to me -- including the woman who reached her arms out toward me as if she were pushing me on. She looked me right in the eye and said, "You are going to finish this, Kate! You are an amazing woman!" She didn't know me, but by the look in her eyes, she meant it.

Wooo, I am getting emotional as I write this...

New York City is known for being tough. It's known for being cynical and cold. It's known for being in too big a hurry to worry about a neighbor. But the New York City I saw on Marathon Day could not be more different. There was a moving sense of community, encouragement, unity and love. People from all walks of life in all 5 boroughs of this crazy city came out to support and help and strengthen their neighbor. I have never experienced anything like it.

About 3/4 of the way through mile 19, the crowd started thinning out as we approached the Willis Avenue Bridge into the Bronx. It was at this point that the pain in my legs was no longer bearable and I decided I had to walk for at least a minute if I was going to finish this race.

This was a really tough call for me - I had expected to have no problem running for the entire race. I had certainly not planned on walking at all. But with how quickly I was fading, I was worried if I didn't walk for a bit, I would be in danger of not making it to the finish line.

I knew my friends were waiting for me at the Robin Hood Block Party at Mile 20. So I gave myself permission to walk for only a few steps and then I had to pick up the pace and run again. I did NOT want to let my friends down. I had to keep going, and my pride told me I had to be running when I saw them!

If you talk to anyone who ran the NYC Marathon earlier than 2007, they will tell you that mile 20 was the most desolate place on the course. Runners dreaded hitting the Bronx because no one came out to support them - they were on their own until reentering Manhattan on 5th Ave.

Robin Hood changed that when they started holding their Block Party at mile 20 four or five years ago. The first year they were there, kids in the neighborhood asked what they were setting up for. The Robin Hooders replied, "for the marathon!" The kids asked, "what's a marathon?" For decades the NYC marathon course passed down their street and they had no idea what a marathon was.

Now, those same kids show up each year to cheer on the Robin Hood runners. They wear, in layers, all the t-shirts from marathons past. Robin Hood transformed the mile 20 stretch.

When I came off the Willis Avenue Bridge, I was again not fully prepared for what I would see - a giant jumbo-tron screen with a live feed of us runners charging down the street, huge crowds of people cheering and screaming, music playing over the loud speakers. I wanted to cry when I saw that block party and needed that energy & encouragement more than ever.

As I approached the Robin Hood group, I saw familiar Robin Hood employees who had helped organize all our training runs and cross-training spin classes. I high-fived each one I saw as they smiled and cheered for me.

I scanned the Robin Hood crowd for my friends. There were so many people, it was hard to pick them out of the crowd and I was worried I wouldn't spot them!

Then I heard someone from behind me yelling, "There she is!!! Kate!!"

I turned around...And there was Noelle!!Noelle got a BIG, sweaty hug because she is the reason I ever got into this whole mess! She and I worked together for the past few years, but she left our hedge fund to go work for Robin Hood. Soon after starting there, she invited me to an info meeting about running the marathon for Robin Hood. Thanks to her, there I was, DYING at mile 20! ;-)

I told Noelle I was out of water and she panicked"It's ok," I told her, "I'll get some at the next water station!"

I continued onward, looking for more of my friends.

That's when I spotted Dana and Marlon - I was clearly pretty ecstatic about that. "I NEED a hug!" I told her.
Regardless of my sweatiness, she kindly obliged
"Marlon! You're next!!" "This is sooooo hard," I told them, "I had no idea!!!"
"I'm dying!" I remember saying, as I drew my hand across my throat. "DYING!"

You can't quite see it in the picture below, but my hands are pressed together as I yelled to the Ruizes,"PRAY FOR ME!!"

The Ruizes sent me on my way, and just as I thought I was getting to the end of the Robin Hood crowd, I saw Stephanie, Megan, and Brian yelling for me!

Apparently the Robin Hood photographer had enough of my dramatic antics at this point, since I didn't end up with any photos with Megan and Steph. But I can assure you our exchange was very similar to that with Noelle and the Ruizes.

Their smiles, cheers, and hugs came at an incredibly vital time for me. "You can do this!!" Stephanie told me after I whined about the difficulty of the race. After a hug from each of them, I pressed onward, renegergized for the 6 miles ahead. I could do this.

Miles 21-25 were the most difficult miles of my life. They were a complete blur. My mental capacity was slowly breaking down and I no longer had the ablity to process the cheers from the crowds. While I know people were calling my name and encouraging me to keep going, I felt almost as though I couldn't hear a thing.

Every half mile or so, I would allow myself to walk a few steps, then I'd pick it up again. For the previous 20 miles I felt I had complete control over where and how I placed each step, but from mile 21 to the end, I just didn't have the energy for any level of precision. My feet landed wherever they were going to land.

Around mile 23, the 4 hour pace group passed me. I momentarily thought I could pick up the pace to keep up with them and still make my goal time of 4 hours or less, but I quickly realized that was just going to be impossible. I was going to be lucky just to finish this thing.

While this was discouraging, I kept thinking of Jed waiting for me on the exclusive bleachers at the finish line in Central Park (another perk of running with Robin Hood). I had to keep up my pace and make him proud!

Here he is, waiting for me at the finish

As I rounded the Southeast corner of Central Park and passed my office building, I told myself that all I had to do was run my daily commute, plus just a little bit more. I walk to Columbus Circle every day, how hard could it be??

I passed under the sign telling me I had only one more mile to go, and I told myself I would run the entire mile. No matter how badly I wanted to quit, I would NOT walk a single step of the final mile.

I came so close to walking, but I refused!

As I veered to the right at Columbus Circle, I was met with another jumbo-tron screen showing us runners as we reentered the park. I heard "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey playing over the speakers and almost got teary-eyed. In my hazy, lethargic, exhausted state, I seriously felt like Journey was singing directly to me - I did just as they said and did not stop believing I would make it to the finish line. Looking back, this sounds so cheesy, but that song got me that final half mile.

I ran into the park, started up the gradual incline (who designed this race course with the final half mile on an uphill?!) and could finally see the finish line ahead of me. I immediately started looking for Jed in the bleachers. You would think at this point that I'd be used to the giant crowds, but I hadn't realized how many people I would have to sort through in order to see Jed.

I got closer and closer to the finish line, trying to look on both sides of the running route, with no luck. I realized I would have to just pick a side and search for him. I opted for the right hand side, ran as close to the crowd as I could and scanned the bleachers.

No Jed.

I was not going to see him as I crossed the the finish line.

I gave up and just hoped he would see me. That was the whole point of having him at the finish line instead of somewhere else along the way. But I was too exhausted to think any more about it.

I looked ahead and noticed the runners coming to a stop just across the finish. It seemed so foreign to me. This steady stream of thousands of people who had been consistently running together for what felt like days, suddenly just...stopping. It was so strange. It seemed wrong.

I don't remember what I did as I crossed the finish line. I might have raised my arms up. I might have smiled. I didn't have the energy to cry as I thought I would. But I do remember how awkward it was for me to stop running. It felt like my legs just didn't understand what I was telling them to do.

I crossed the line and stopped my watch - 4 hours, 14 minutes, 41 seconds. About 15 minutes passed my goal time...I could live with that.

I was immediately given a mylar blanket to trap in my heat. I put it on, then emailed Jed from my Blackberry:

"Finshed! Walking thru park."

Then I snapped this photo

I was too exhausted to get a better one.

I was then handed a bright orange bag filled with food and water. Then was directed to stand in front of a photographer and have my picture taken.

That could not possibly have been an attractive photo.

Famished, I searched through my food bag - an apple looked incredibly appealing to me. I took one bite though, and just could not stomach it. I pulled out the water and slowly sipped it. Even that was hard to keep down. I knew I needed to eat something though, since I felt so weak. I pulled out a power bar and tried a tiny bite. But I didn't have enough saliva to break it down and instead, pieces of it cemented themselves to my teeth.

It was the strangest sensation to want this food so badly, have it right there in front of me, and just not have the capability to eat it.

The runners are all forced to continue walking through corrals along the park for about 10 blocks. This part was almost more torturous than miles 21-25. Having to walk at a painfully slow pace, sorrounded by thousands of people, feeling the way I felt...I wanted to scream. It felt like they would never let us out of the park. I wanted to stop and sit along the way so badly, but none of the officials would allow it.

I finally got out of the park around 77th St. and then had to walk to Columbus Ave. Bike taxis were swarming the runners offering us a cheap ride wherever we needed to go. It was so tempting, but I only had one more avenue to go to meet Jed.

I stood and wobbily stretched while I waited for Jed on the corner of Columbus and 77th. I was freezing cold, tired, hungry, and nauseous. I wanted to sit down but was worried I wouldn't be able to get up. I shivered and shivered until I heard Jed whistle and turned around to see him.

I immediately burst into tears.

"Babe, that was so hard," I told him as I cried, "it was amazing."

We hugged and hugged. I continued to cry as I told him how much I wished he could have done it with me. How I so wish I had been able to share the whole experience with him. I told him about not being able to find him in the crowds and asked if he had seen me. He told me he had been tracking me using his iPhone, had seen that I was approaching the final stretch, got the camera out and anxiously watched for me as runners flowed toward the finish line. He watched and watched but didn't see me. Unfortunately, I had chosen the right hand side to focus on, and Jed was sitting on the left.

He checked his iPhone and realized I had finished...he had missed me.

We felt pretty forlorn about the whole thing. First, that Jed hadn't been able to run with me, and second, that we didn't see each other at all during the race. But, as much as I wish he had been able to run, in a way, running it entirely on my own was incredibly empowering. And while we didn't see one another at the finish line, just knowing he was there waiting for me at the end, motivated me at my most troublesome moments.

Jed gave me the sweatshirt he had brought for me and put his coat around my shoulders. Dana and Marlon found us and we all stood there on the street as I told them all about the crazy, amazing experience I had just had.

I headed home for a much needed shower, but took this photo first

We then went out for a celebratory dinner Thank goodness my ability to eat had returned!!
I was sure to wear my medal to dinner. Isn't it sweet?!
I'll have to get it engraved
The next day I found my results published in the New York TimesI was 19,847th out of just over 45,000 runners.

Not too shabby, I guess.

After checking the results, Jed and I registered for the lottery for next year's marathon. Hopefully we'll get to run that one together.

SPECIAL THANKS

Thank you to anyone in NYC who comes out to support the marathon. Please keep doing it, the runners NEED you!

Thanks to my friends on Facebook & not on Facebook who sent me words of encouragement surrounding this race. It meant so much to have your support!

Very special thanks to my friends who came out to support me on race day - especially those I couldn't find in the crowds. Your cheers (heard by me or not) meant the world to me!!

A huge thanks to Robin Hood for making this an incredible experience. They really are the only way to do the NYC marathon. And I'm particularly grateful to their photographer...I will absolutely treasure the moments they captured!

An extra huge, grateful, heartfelt, whopping thanks to everyone who enabled me to run by making a financial donation. I felt like an absolute pest asking over and over again, so please know I appreciate it like crazy. Through this marathon, we made a difference in the lives of impoverished New Yorkers.

And finally, thank you, my sweet husband, for running every single training run with me. I am so sorry we didn't get to run the race together. Our early morning runs will be some of my most treasured memories of this time in our lives.

And thank you to anyone who actually read this post. If you made it through the entire thing, you deserve a medal of your own.

Can't wait till my next marathon!!!