The Pursuit of Runningness: Race Report: NYC Marathon, Part I

Race: ING New York City Marathon
Distance: 26.2 miles
Official Time: 4:21:57
Pace/Mile: 9:59

The alarm on the nightstand went off, startling me awake. The clock read 4:30...time for my NYC marathon experience to begin. I quietly crept to the bathroom, being careful not to wake everyone else, and began my pre-race routine. I could already hear the bustling city traffic below our 15th-floor window, no doubt many of the vehicle drivers being runners themselves as they worked their way through busy streets towards the start line in Staten Island. Fortunately for me, I had already signed up for bus transportation through NYRR and wouldn't need to navigate the unknown streets myself. However, it was already 5:05 and my bib ticket read for a 5:30 transport time…I'd better hurry or I might be sitting in a longer line than expected. Grabbing my official runner bag filled with pre-race goodies, I slipped out the door of our hotel room without waking anyone.

Exiting my hotel, I stepped out into early morning darkness and the crisp, cold race morning air. It was beautiful outside…the temperature being around 38 degrees and no wind to speak of. Had it not been for the multitude of other marathon athletes steadily flowing down the streets reminding me of the impending race to come, I may have wistfully forgotten my plans and instead opted for unique excursion run through Midtown as the city slowly woke itself up. But not today. Today I was on a mission: all five bridges, all five boroughs. I followed the sidewalk, and the existing throng of half-awake pedestrians, west towards the New York Public Library where dozens of Midtown Manhattan buses waited for the thousands of nervous but eager runners to board them.

Queueing up with other athletes in the block-long line outside Bryant Park, starting where the entrance to the No. 7 line runs unnoticed below, we slowly filtered our way back east where officials continually verified our runner bibs and checked over our baggage. Standing in the colder temps, instead of walking like we'd been doing during our siteseeing the past couple of days, only invited shivers to join our nerves. Rounding the east side of the library roughly 20 minutes later, a full set of buses pulled away from the curb as another new group of buses took their place. The gaggle of runners I was with were directed towards the empty lead bus and quickly, but efficiently, herded inside. Sitting in the warm seats and dim lighting, I leaned my head back against the headrest and soon watched as the neighborhoods slipped by on our way to the start line.

I remember some of the bus ride over to Staten Island, but much of it just slipped by as I closed my eyes and began preparing myself mentally. And it was too dark to see much of anything any way.

I didn't consider myself to be nervous at all, though I did want to do my best to properly anticipate the expansive grounds there at Fort Wadsworth and the mind-numbing crowds that would be surely milling about. Besides, I just wanted to reclaim a few precious moments of sleep if I could. As our bus crossed over the Verrazano Bridge and pulled up to the dropoff point, the hint of impending sunrise was just beginning to make itself known on the horizon. It was 6:20.

Following the collective bunch of runners as they exited the bus and joining the thousands already walking down the side of the roadway towards the Athlete Village entrance, I quickly snapped off a few pictures. I'd bought my little camera, an Olympus Stylus 850SW, not a week before and was intending to somehow document each stage of the voyage into the NYC Marathon unknown. I guess I was hoping to catch a little of the excitement, maybe some of the unrelateable, that many runners may never see or experience themselves. Seeing the lines of literally a hundred chartered buses waiting to pass through the tollway plaza behind ours, as well as being greeted by the multitudes of volunteers and police officers as I stepped through the official village entrance, it was more than enough to allow this realization to begin sinking in. Think of the largest race staging area you have ever been in…then quadruple it. Here was hundreds of tents, thousands of porto-potties, and 40,000+ of your closest friends…it was literally mind-boggling. That is what it was like as I walked onto the grounds there at Fort Wadsworth.

Runners are organized into three start villages or zones—blue, orange, and green. With a bib number of 27079, mine happened to be the orange village, officially known as the "Grete Waitz village". I followed the orange balloons and fencing down a long set of streets with other like-colored bibs, and finally found our staging area near the base of the bridge. Rather than simply finding a place to sit down, and being somewhat chilled yet from the gusts of wind from the bay nearby, I chose to check out my surroundings. Dunkin Donuts apparently happened to be one of the bigger sponsors of the race, since I found ample amounts of coffee and hot tea—crowd favorites it seemed. I also found tents where multitudes of bagels and powerbars were being handed out in droves. Quickly learning the runner tents were already full to overflowing, I grabbed a fresh bagel and some hot tea with honey and located a secluded spot alongside a Dunkin Donut truck where I could lean against its side and be away from the cold wind. The hot tea did little to warm me, so I pulled on my windbreaker. Hearing how the weather might be somewhat adverse while waiting for the actual race to begin, I'd planned ahead by purchasing some extra "toss-away" clothing from the local thrift store a couple weeks previous. My meager collection at least made the cold tolerable, as I grabbed the newspaper from my goody bag and hunkered down for a little over two hours of waiting.

Close to 9:00, I relinquished my cozy spot next to the donut truck and made my way over to the UPS baggage check area. Here I found volunteers outside my 27,000-27,999 truck who were eagerly waiting to take my bag off my hands and prep it for delivery to the finish line. The bag only contained my reading material and some extra food stuffs, so post-race collection wasn't exactly mandatory. If I found the lines too long there, I planned to bypass the truck entirely and head out of the park as quickly as possible. Next, I wandered over past the giant entertainment stage where a blues-inspired band played melodic tunes, apparently enticing several runners to get up and dance. Having forgotten my dancing shoes, I plodded past and soon found the entrance gate to the orange runner corrals. I located the sign containing the batch of numbers my bib was attached to and asked the gentleman there how soon before we could enter. He mentioned they would allow the first wave of runners to enter first, then us second wave runners could enter promptly after at 9:15. I only had a few minutes, so I found the closest tree nearby and began my stretching routines. I also pulled off my "toss-away" clothing, but kept my blue hooded sweatshirt to keep me somewhat warm for the final 45 minutes before the cannon sounded. Stepping through the gate, I moved forward as far as they would allow and waited for the eventual surge that would carry us along the corral and into starting position on the bridge.

Next...the start!