Today’s guest post is the first in the 2014 fitness feature section! I’m so excited about showcasing your triumphs and goals this year! My dear friend, Ann is kicking it off with her story as she ran the 2013 INGNYC Marathon.
November 3, 2013
I’m on First Avenue, pounding the pavement at a rhythmic ten-minute-per-mile pace. Hundreds of spectators cheer me on, their voices pushing me forward, one foot in front of the other…
5 a.m.: Beep, beep, beep. The alarm clock sounds, awaking me from a listless, dream-filled sleep. This race is all I have thought of for days, and the anticipation, anxiety, and adrenaline have spilled into my subconscious. I am well-trained, well-rested, well-fueled and prepared. I am ready to run.
I rise with anticipation and excitement because today I am a pro athlete. I am one for whom crowds will line the streets to watch and cheer. Some run for charity. Some run for personal achievement. All run for the pure fun of it. Whatever the incentive, there is no greater feeling than crossing that finish line.
Dawn breaks, and although I’m excited, I am also nervous. Whether it’s a 5k, 10k, half, or full marathon, I always face the same pre-race nerves. Breathe, relax, have some coffee and a banana… get to the starting line. I focus on each moment, yet plan for the next. This is the strategy that gets me through 16 weeks of training and to the end of 26.2 miles.
6:30 a.m.: Security is tighter following the Boston Marathon bombing last April, so my boyfriend and running partner, Victor, and I are dropped off at Staten Island four hours early—which means a four-hour wait in 40-degree weather. There are no activities to keep runners busy. It is just the two of us, hundreds of fellow marathoners, layers of clothing, and portable potties. We try to keep warm while not expending any energy, huddling under synthetic aluminum “blankets” and sporting (complementary) Dunkin Donut hats. The minutes pass much quicker than anticipated as we continue to fuel, stretch, hydrate, and gradually shed our copious layers.
10:00 a.m.: Wave 3 is off! We are herded like cattle past the last row of porta-potties to the start line at bottom of the Verrazano Bridge. The energy builds with each shuffling step, and as we wait for the gun to commence our run, the tune “New York, New York” bursts from the speakers. We belt the chorus in unison with fellow runners, and grin from ear to ear. This is what I’ve been working for, waiting for… the energy and adrenaline courses through my veins.
Miles 1-2: As we cross the start line at a slow jog, we immediately climb the first mile uphill to the peak of the Verrazano Bridge, and the second mile down, crossing into Brooklyn. We have a well-rehearsed pace plan designed specifically for the NYC course. Vic reads off our mile one and two splits, revealing that we are tracking much faster than our planned cadence. “We’ve gone rogue,” he announces.
Mile 3-15: It’s a battle through Brooklyn. I am itching to slow down, fearful that our quicker-than-planned pace will sabotage us in the second half marathon. Yet Vic maintains the sub-10-minute splits, a half step ahead of me. “Let’s go by effort, not by pace,” he suggests. It sounds like a logical idea, and I don’t want to be the one to slow us down, so I stick with his lead.
The Brooklyn crowds are some of the coolest along the course. We see a new “flavor” of the Big Apple every couple of miles as we cruise by the classy brownstones and the Williamsburg hipsters. Spectators scream our names, which we’ve ironed on our shirts, giving us a surge of fresh energy. We remain on the edge of the course for easy access to many a hand slap. The muscles in my cheeks begin to ache as I smile and laugh from the sheer joy of the experience. At miles 8 and 12 we are greeted by the familiar faces of friends and family members, whose support fuels our slowly waning zeal.
Miles 16-20: I’ve been waiting for these four miles since we entered Brooklyn. From Victor’s prior NYC marathon experience, the crowd was greatest, music loudest, and course flattest through this stretch. We cross the Queensboro Bridge into Manhattan and can hear the crowds before we spot them. Rounding the corner onto First Avenue, my heart jumps as I see an endless stretch of fans who came out of their homes and away from their routines to help me tick off the miles. I now understand that a marathon—and any race, really—is a joint effort between the runners and their supporters.
Miles 20-26: A marathon begins at mile 20. This final 10k is a mental game. If your body is physically trained to run 20 miles, the remaining 6.2 is about pushing your brain. And you are always capable of much more than you assume—when your mind creates the space for your body to perform, you will always surprise yourself by what you actually can do. I know these tenets to be true, and I repeat them to myself as I settle in for the last leg of the race.
We enter Central park at mile 23, and I am absolutely, wholly fatigued. Every muscle aches—some to the point of numbness. I have forgotten about the crowd. I still hear my name called from the side of the course, but I can barely manage a weak smile in response. The sun is high in the sky, the temperature has warmed to nearly 50, and I am faintly aware of my scenic surroundings. I think to myself, “It’s a pity I’ve just run 23 miles because I have no mental capacity to appreciate the beauty of this park.”
As we near mile 25, we hear a familiar voice call our names and turn to see a large group of family and friends waving and shouting. An unprecedented swell of adrenaline rips through me, and I am briefly revitalized and fully refocused to finish the last mile strongly. I realize that we have kept up our faster pace throughout the race and am exhilarated at the thought of finishing minutes ahead of schedule.
The finish line: The last 0.2 miles feel like an eternity. I can see the finish, taste the finish, crave the finish. My body has been running on fumes for six miles, and my mind is starting to surrender as well. It is at this point that I release the plethora of emotions and feelings that have consumed my body and mind all day—excitement, adrenaline, nerves, anxiety, exhaustion, determination, anticipation. The tears flood my eyes and I gasp for air, sprinting the final steps over the finish line.
4 hours and 24 minutes—well below our planned four and-a-half hour race time. We are elated, yet so relieved that the pain has come to an end. As I clutch Vic in a sweat- and salt-soaked embrace, I feel the deepest sense of personal triumph I’ve known since my last marathon a year-and-a-half earlier. It is this culminating sense of utter satisfaction that makes every mile logged, every GU gel consumed, every entry dollar spent, and every agonizing ache endured absolutely worth it.
I can’t wait to do it again.
Ann Parker is the manager of the Human Capital Community of Practice at the American Society for Training and Development (ASTD). Prior to this role, she was a senior writer/editor at ASTD, working primarily on the association’s membership publication, T+D magazine. Ann writes semi-regularly at her personal blog, Punk’s Prose.
Ah! I loved Ann’s story! I felt like I was right there with her (minus the aches and pains!). Congrats, Ann!
Thank you for the opportunity to write this! I loved doing it. And I love talking fitness with you! I want to try HIIT soon.
Go for it! I find it addicting. I did INSANITY at the gym yesterday. Hard, like throw up hard, but fun. I want more!