NYC marathon report

November 6, 2005
10:10 am
NYC Verazanno Narrows Bridge
Temperature: 20 C
Humidity: present and rising

What I wore: MAA race singlet, Black Nike shorts, White quarter length low
Wrightsocks, Asics Nimbus VII, Yellow cap

What I ate for breakfast: Strawberry yogurt, 2 bananas, granola bar, grapes,
strawberries and kiwi juice.

I woke up at 5am and rushed out of bed as I was to meet the group in the hotel lobby (NYAC) in 45 minutes. The sleep was not restful. Despite having settled in on Friday, I had not gotten used to the mattress. Despite it being a hard like the one I have at home, it just was not comfortable. I could not get used to the blankets as they were too thick. Call me a princess but I require a blanket of a certain thickness. I found it too warm would end up kicking the blanket off the bed. I'd end up wrapping myself in cocoon fashion with the bed sheet only to wake up in the middle of the night to pick up the blanket off the floor and drape it on top of myself.

I woke up in the middle of the night in order to replace the ice in the sink that had melted over the course of the evening keeping my yogurt cool. For as much as I'm paying for this room, I'm surprised that a refrigerator was not included. It's hard finding a yogurt at 5am from a convenience store.

I quickly changed into my race clothes which I had laid out the night before. The bib and chip was been fastened on the night before. I place my personal effects in the ING drawstring bag that was subsequently placed in the transparent travel UPS bag that had a label of my name and bib number attached to it. I placed my camera and mobile phone in hard case soap containers to minimise the likelihood of them being damaged during their time in storage.

I applied my, "pectoral support" in banal fashion and applied pressure with both hands in simultaneous circular fashion to ensure that they had adhered properly... "What would people think if they saw me now?" I thought to myself in that moment.

I changed the ice in the buckets that had melted keeping the fruit I had setup the night before cool for Peter. Throughout the entire time that I was rushing around the room preparing my travel kit and personal effects in military fashion whilst flipping through the channels looking for the weather forecast for the day, Peter did not stir a bit.

I wanted him to take a picture of myself in my throw away clothes for posterity but it was not to be. I roused him awake and he was visibly distraught when I did so. He asked in a stern fashion, "What?" I extended my hand and wished him the best of luck for the race as I was moving out the door. We shook hands and he went back to sleep. Lucky him, ING had reserved a special bus for employees departing at 6:45am and he was sure to sleep every moment prior to its departure.

I found myself at in the lobby where everyone had assembled. Idle conversation was being exchanged about each person's respective weekend. We gathered for a group photo of ourselves. Ah... such optimism. If they only knew then, what I know now.

We left the hotel in summary fashion and found ourselves heading westward on 6th Ave. We passed the Hilton hotel where I saw Peter's bus waiting for all the ING members to assemble. The Hilton was ING's official hotel. Gee if only I could be so lucky. As we converged toward the NYC public library, we could see a steady procession of runners proceeding along a path marked out by security barriers. A phalanx of police officers were about to ensure public order. The mood was solemn as we marched in steady fashion toward the bus. I engaged in polite conversation with my running mates and was in awe about the logistics of organising such an event. The NY Road Runners, must have rented the entire fleet of buses in order to bring runners to Staten Island.

We were stuck in Sunday morning traffic getting to Fort Wadsworth. It wasn't so much actual traffic than it was waiting for buses to drop off their passengers before we could debark. For as we waited on the bridge, a fellow runner excused himself and stepped off the bus in order to relieve himself.

We all howled in laughter as several other runners followed suit. Whilst waiting we witnessed the early start for the physically challenged. It was humbling to see these people tackle such event. One person who will forever stand out in my mind was a person confined to wheelchair and had only use of one leg. He would propel himself by kicking off of his sound leg and drive backward to the finish line.

We converged upon the, "Great wall of porto-lets" in the distance and we knew that we were near. My body had finally woken up and I found the urge to relieve myself as well.

We finally debarked and were greeted by volunteers who must have been doing such a repetitive task in robotic fashion repeatedly. It was really considerate for to have volunteers come out so early to Staten Island to greet us.

The camp was divided into three different groups demarcated by green, orange and blue balloon floats. Runnners would assemble corresponding area based on the respective colour on their bib. Numbers would be assigned in chronological order and faster runners would be assigned the lower numbers. Dorys had number 976. Orange coloured bibs followed suit and the green (where yours truly had) was came in what I refer to affectionately as, "general admission".

The group exchanged their final farewells to each other and everyone split up into their respective camps. I found myself with several other runners lining up for what felt like an eternity for the porto-lets. Impatience and bursting bladders almost resulted in fisticuffs as runners tried to queue jump. The smell from 10 feet away was nauseating and would make anyone's stomach turn.

Following that unpleasant (but necessary) task, I proceeded to the bag drop off section. A wide screen television had been erected that provided the NBC broadcast of the day's events. Despite being so close to the action, we really did not have a clue as to what the developments were. I dropped off my bag and proceeded to find the area corresponding to my bib number.

Each camp was subdivided into smaller areas. Each area served as a holding pen for a corral of 1000 runners. I was fortunate to have my corral number bumped up by 7000 for line up purposes. Unfortunately I was stuck in the general admission corral. The blue and orange bib runners ran on the upper level of the bridge, where they would be able to enjoy a panoramic view and the weather. Those in general admission ran in the sub level like sewer rats.

All runners ran in separate lanes and it was only at the 8 mile mark that our paths converged. The following is a course map of the race.

http://www.ingnycmarathon.org/about/coursemap.pdf

We were summoned in adhoc fashion over loud speakers that did not function too well. At that moment everyone began to collectively strip down to their running gear. We all proceeded to the on ramp where we were privileged to listen to an army sergeant's rendition of the, "Star Spangled Banner" Her performance was powerful and moving. I could not think of a better way to commence the race.

We heard the cannons boom signaling the beginning of the race and my thoughts jumped to the elite commencing the race. "Gee, what would it be like to see them begin?" I thought to myself. I shook hands with the runners to standing beside me (foreigners like myself) and we headed out.

My strategy was to keep to conserve as much energy as possible and not get carried away by the spectators. I knew that it was going to be a hard day and figured that it was best to get carried away in the euphoria. I adopted a stoic demeanor and focused on the strategy and the tactics that I planned to follow. The intention was to run the first 10km in 53 minutes and then switch to a pace of 5 minutes per km afterward. Depending on how I felt at the 20 mile mark, I would then adjust accordingly. The goal was to record a finishing time in the neighborhood of 3:30-40.

The sheer number of runners proved to be frustrating as it resulted in a much slower pace. Then again like myself, I was in awe of seeing the sheer number of spectators who turned out to watch this event. From the sidewalks to balconies and even rooftops, this perennial event was to the delight of the locals. Then again, they could have been making fun of us for that matter but it didn't matter to us.

At the half way point of the race a feeling of uneasiness surfaced on my right side. It began as sensation and soon manifested as a tightness which eventually made my breathing laboured. This side stitch was something I never had experienced before. I was able to sustain a 5 minute per km pace for the mid 20km distances but as the symptoms became more pronounced, the pace and form deteriorated significantly.

I cannot but help to place the blame squarely on my shoulders for this set back. Perhaps it was the Argentian beef and the late night from Friday. Perhaps it was the early start for the 7km Friendship run Saturday morning. I realise that those actions could explain a slower completion time but these side stitches were honestly something I could not explain or train for.

At the 23 mile mark I met up with Dorys and I found out that all the other runners had suffered and recorded slower completion times. The heat and humidity were the cause of the side stitch. He taught me how to resolve the side stitch and when that was done, it was too late for me to mount a last ditch effort. I was exhausted and could only muster a 6 minute per km pace.

I had stopped numerous times for walk breaks and at water stations hoping to be able to regain a second wind to no avail. I tried for a sub four hour finish but realised that my hamstrings started to feel tight and my quads were feeling shattered from the hills. At that point, I decided to jog toward the finish.

The crowds in central park were nothing short of awe inspiring. The cheering was deafening and it was a pure delight to revel in it. I only wish that the race could have been completed under better circumstances.

I'm not as devasted as I thought I would be for failing to reach my objective but I realise that simply put, I had a bad day. I did my homework and I trained hard but I the elements conspired against me. Naturally, I am disappointed at the result but I realise that I did not need the time to realise that I have made significant progress year over year. If anything this has firmed my resolve to train harder for the next marathon. See you then...