Last Sunday, I ran the New York City Marathon, my third world major race. Now that I’ve run Boston, Chicago and New York, I still need to complete the London, Berlin and Tokyo Marathons to finish all six world majors.

Getting There, Not So Fun

When I ran both the Chicago and Boston Marathons, we took red eye flights that left me exhausted. This time, in an effort to prevent that unfortunate result, I decided to dedicate a day to travel. The best flight to get us there was on Frontier, which isn’t our favorite airline, but the timing was perfect. Of course, we would eventually regret that decision.

When we left home at about 6:00 a.m., it was 18 degrees with fresh snow on the ground. We drove to Vegas, left our car at an offsite hotel, and took a shuttle to the airport. Our flight to Atlanta boarded on time and the flight was cramped but not too miserable. We arrived at the Atlanta airport and had some dinner, then settled in to wait for our connecting flight to LaGuardia.

There was a gate change. No problem. The crew arrived and boarded the airplane, and the gate crew started making announcements. Then everything just … stopped. No first-class pre-boarding, no boarding groups. Nothing. When we were about 15-20 minutes past our expected boarding time, I walked over toward the podium to see if I could find out what was going on. Just as I got there, the crew came off the plane. The pilot, a grizzled old guy who had to be close to retirement, walked past me muttering, “I can’t fly this damn plane all by myself….” About a minute later, they announced that the flight was cancelled.

Well, shit. There weren’t any more flights to New York or anywhere nearby at that time of the night. And of course, if I couldn’t get to the New York convention center the next day to pick up my race bib, I wouldn’t be running the marathon on Sunday.

We had checked a bag, so we headed down to baggage claim to collect it. As we did, we searched for a flight that would get us there in time. I tried calling our hotel in New York to let them know we would be (hopefully) arriving the next day to use the room we had already pre-paid for, but the hotel never answered. I actually considered renting a car and driving through the night (it’s 13 hours from Atlanta to New York), but managed to find a 6:00 a.m. flight from Atlanta to Chicago, with a connecting flight to Newark. That would have to do. We contacted Expedia and asked them to make sure the hotel didn’t resell our room, then found an inexpensive airport hotel where we could get maybe four hours of sleep if we hurried.

So much for not taking the red-eye.

We set our alarms for 3:30 so we could catch the first shuttle at 4:00 for our 6:00 flight. The weather in Chicago was awful, but the pilots managed to get us safely to the ground in spite of the 60-mph cross-wind. Our connecting flight left on time and we managed to get to Newark just before noon. From there, we caught a bus that would drop us off in downtown Manhattan.

The original plan was to ride the subway out to Queens and check into the hotel, then go back to the Javits Center for the Expo. When we arrived in midtown, I went straight to the convention center instead. I managed to get in and out quickly, so I was on my way to the subway when we found out the idiots at the hotel had cancelled our room altogether. They were extremely rude in the process. Luckily, we managed to find another place with an open room a few blocks away.

After a yummy carb-load dinner at a local Italian/Argentine restaurant, we went to bed early in our comfortable replacement room.

Early Morning Bus

There’s one benefit to a race that happens the morning Daylight Saving Time ends — you get an extra hour of sleep. After waking at 4:15, I was dressed and out the door in about 15 minutes. I used the half-mile between the hotel and subway station for a quick warm-up jog. Four stops later, I was in downtown Manhattan.

The bus lines were immense, winding back and forth over two city blocks. Uniformed police officers herded us into the funnel at the start of the line, asking everyone to show their bibs. One young woman refused, and they tried to pull her out. She stopped in the stream of runners and shouted at the officer: “Don’t you bring your KKK tactics into this! I ain’t going nowhere!” Turns out that was incorrect. She didn’t have a bib and wasn’t registered for the race. We watched as two officers grabbed her, one on each arm, and pulled her out of the line. The other runners raised their eyebrows and giggled. It was such a ridiculous, unnecessary scene.

The line was long, but it moved fast. Before long, I turned the corner to the front of the New York City Public Library. A line of buses pulled up and before we knew it, we were settling in for the long ride to Staten Island. I mostly chilled, and Katie, the woman sitting next to me, took photos out the window. We went through a tunnel (not sure which one) and drove through Brooklyn. Right before we crossed the Verrezzano-Narrows bridge, we saw a sign that said, “Leaving Brooklyn, Fuhgeddaboudit.” The sky was just getting light as we crossed over and disembarked at Fort Wadsworth.

Athlete’s Village and Starting Line

The sun was just rising as we entered the Athlete’s Village. Katie was in the green group, and I was blue, so we said goodbye and headed toward our respective areas. The temperature at this point was about 66 degrees. The place wasn’t crowded at first, but as more and more buses arrived, things got busier. I found an empty stretch of grass and spread out my foil emergency blanket. I wasn’t cold at all — it was probably in the high 60s at that point — but I still wrapped up and dozed a little. When I woke up, the area around me was filled with runners. I ate my bagel and drank some Gatorade, then went looking for Dunkin’.

Not for coffee or a doughnut, but for a hat. They give out these bright pink and orange hats that are a treasured souvenir. Once I gone one, I chatted a bit with some of the other runners and drank some water. Hit the potty. Sat some more. More water. Every once in a while a cannon would fire, followed by announcements in multiple languages that we shouldn’t panic. Eventually, they called Wave 1 runners to report to their corrals. I found the gate for D, and settled in again.

New York City Marathon – Miles 1-2

I’d watched enough YouTube videos about the race to know what was going to happen at the start. We packed into a chute made of buses. They played Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York.” Then we shuffled forward, gradually picking up speed until we reached the starting line, starting our GPS watches as we crossed it.

The road rose ahead of us, arching up and over the first half of the two-mile span of the Verrazzano-Narrows bridge. By this point, the day was already heating up, well over 70 degrees.

It was slow going. I wanted to move a lot quicker than everybody else, but we were packed like spawning salmon between the central divider and the sides of the bridge. I remember being conscious of the fact that — right below us — even more runners were chugging along on the lower deck of the bridge. Let’s be honest: 50,000-plus runners is a lot of people to get from point A to point B, with the former being the three starting lines (blue, green and orange) at Fort Wadsworth and the latter being the finish line in Central Park.

To take my mind off the climb, I tried to pay attention to the other runners. I saw a young woman in a kilt very much like the one I set my world record in. I saw two Spidermans (Spidermen?) on the other side of the barrier. I also saw a guy wearing what looked like an Aztec headdress festooned with feathers.

New York City Marathon – Miles 3-8

Most people don’t know that there are actually three starting lines for the New York City Marathon, one each for the blue, green and orange groups. The three colors take slightly different routes through from the Brooklyn side of the Verrazzano bridge, converging at around mile 3. We picked up the orange group first, running on the lefthand side of the divided street, and then the green group converged from the right about a mile later. Eventually, the dividers disappear and everybody runs together for the rest of the race. By this point, the field is (mostly) spread out, so it’s a little easier to move around.

After the bridge, it’s a long, mostly straight slog along Fourth Ave. in Brooklyn. The crowds were large and boisterous, with lots of homemade signs and noisemakers and makeshift stages with bands playing on them. I spent most of these miles on autopilot, enjoying the signs as I kept what felt like a comfortable pace. The day was still cool, and I was feeling great in spite of all our difficulties in getting to New York. Everything felt great.

New York City Marathon – Miles 9-15

The weirdest part of the race was miles 9 and 10, when the course goes through the neighborhood of Williamsburg. This is an area dominated by Orthodox Jews, who apparently weren’t super thrilled at having the world’s largest footrace run right through their streets. The police presence here was lighter than in other areas, and we saw men in hats with curly sidelocks and women in headscarfs walking past, studiously ignoring the runners. Every once in a while, a small group of bearded men would jog across the course, forcing runners to dodge them. Aside from small pockets of outsiders, the crowd support in this area was practically zero.

We crossed the Pulaski Bridge into Queens, and the crowds got louder. The course here zigged and zagged a bit, and then the course turned left and we started climbing the ramp up to the Queensboro Bridge (a.k.a. the Ed Koch Bridge, a.k.a. the 59th St. Bridge).

No spectators on the bridge — it was a dead zone. As the cheering faded to nothing, the day seemed to suddenly get very hot. I was already soaked with sweat, and the air on the lower level of the bridge felt still and close. The surface of the bridge was patched and potholed, and I had to swerve around several people who suddenly stopped to walk. I also dodged puddles of vomit from someone who’d eaten something very pink.

Next came one of the best parts of the course. The bridge ended and we took a hairpin curve onto 59th St. and onto 1st Ave. The crowds here were huge, and their cheering echoed back and forth between the buildings. That little buttonhook gave me a much-needed boost for what would turn out to be some of the toughest miles I’ve ever run.

New York City Marathon – Miles 16-19

The first miles in Manhattan are a long, hilly slog straight up 1st Ave. The buildings are taller along the avenue, so the sun didn’t seem as intense, but there wasn’t much breeze, either. My head was overheating, so I spent much of the time fanning myself with my hat. I was definitely slowing down, but it didn’t feel like I could do much about that. I went from every other hydration station to power-walking through each one, grabbing Gatorade and then water to slosh down my neck and back. My running kilt was getting heavier from the water and sweat, but that seemed like a small price to pay.

From that point, the day just seemed to get hotter and hotter. It got so I couldn’t tell whether I was going uphill or downhill. It all felt like uphill. The crowds kind of faded and I focused on just putting one foot in front of the other. It was that kind of race, that kind of day.

New York City Marathon – Miles 20-21

At about mile 19.5 I crossed the Willis Avenue Bridge and for the two-mile journey in the southern tip of The Bronx. We passed a group of Japanese drummers, and I paused my music long enough to hear them. The course zig-zagged some more, and I tried to run the tangents even though it was still a challenge to shift from one side of the street to the other.

The vibe on the other side of the Harlem River was kind of weird. Whereas the crowds in Manhattan had been super supportive (even as I was tuning them out), the folks in The Bronx seemed more amused than anything else. Like, “Get a load of these idiots running in our neighborhood!” But we weren’t in their neighborhood very long. We crossed the Madison Ave. Bridge and took a left turn onto 5th Ave. for the final slog.

New York City Marathon – Miles 22-26

I don’t remember much the final three or four miles. I remember the course jogging out and back in Harlem to go around a park, and then running around the roundabout that marks the northeast corner of Central Park. The crowds were huge by then, and there was a big stage set up in Duke Ellington Circle with a loud band playing music.

Just before the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the course left 5th Ave. and veered into the park itself. Two miles to go! I’m not sure whether it started sprinkling right then or whether I just noticed it then, but the tiny raindrops felt great on my head. I took a few short walking breaks here to get my mojo back, then got ready for the final push.

New York City Marathon – Finish

We rounded the corner onto Central Park South with about a mile left. As soon as we turned north into the park, the path started to rise again. We probably only climbed 20 or 30 feet, but it felt like a mountain. (I heard more than one person exclaim, “You’ve got to be f—ing kidding me!”) But then we crested the hill and suddenly the finish line was in sight.

In my mind, I quickened my pace for those final few yards. In reality, I probably just stumbled slightly less slowly. I felt relief as I cross the finish line, happy to be able to walk without feeling guilty. I collected my medal, then took the recovery bag a friendly volunteer thrust into my hands. Another one gave me my post-race poncho, which I draped over my shoulders until I realized it was way too warm for that.

Seeing the City

You can’t go to New York City and not play tourist. Though we got robbed of almost a full day due to airline intransigence,

• “Disney’s Aladdin”: Sunday night (the night of the race) we got to see Disney’s Aladdin, which was an amazing show. The performers were great, but in my opinion, the sets and costumes stole the show.
• The Met: Monday morning, we walked across Central Park to check on medal engraving, but the line was several hours long. So we went to the other side of the park and spend most of the afternoon at the Met. I especially loved the Egypt collection, the Renaissance paintings, and an odd hodgepodge they called “visual storage.” It’s been a long time since I’ve had a chance to visit that museum.
• Brooklyn Bridge: Tuesday morning, we took the subway to the neighborhood in Brooklyn known as Dumbo. Here, we grabbed a bagel and took some photos at one of the most recognizable photo spots in all of New York. Then we walked across the Brooklyn Bridge, which was something we’d planned to do on Saturday.
• 9/11 Memorial: We’d also planned to visit the 9/11 museum on Saturday, but when we went there Tuesday morning we discovered it was closed. So we stood for a moment at the memorial pool, then headed down to Battery Park.
• Liberty Island: Last time we visited Liberty Island, we didn’t spend much time at the museum. This time, we walked a circuit around the statue (taking photos along the way), then did the whole museum experience. It was pretty cool, and the documentary film about the creation of the Statue of Liberty was super interesting.
• Ellis Island: My earliest ancestors came to America in 1616, well before immigrants were processed on Ellis Island. But it’s deeply moving to see the facility that welcomed 12 million new Americans. The Park Service had upgraded the displays since we’d been there before, and it was fascinating to go through the new experience.
• “The Music Man”: The crowning event of our trip was to see the revival of The Music Man on Broadway with Hugh Jackman and Sutton Foster. The two stars were 100% on their game, though I was a bit disapointed by the school board quartet (and the fact that they cut the quartet’s best song, “It’s You”). I managed to snap a few grainy photos after the curtain call, when Jackman and Foster came out to raise money for charity.
• Sibling Meetup: The final bright spot of the trip was getting to see my brother Joe in Charlotte. He had a flight out of the gate right next to ours, leaving at just about the same time, so he came early and we got to visit for a while before we headed out on separate aircraft.

Going Home

This New York City trip started out rough and stressful, but overall it was a great visit. I’d like to run the New York City Marathon again when the weather is more conducive to racing (high 40s or low 50s would be perfect). Until then, I’ll be avoiding Frontier Airlines as well as rude hotel workers.

That’s three world majors done (Boston, Chicago, New York City) and three to go (London, Berlin, Tokyo). I’m halfway there!