The New York City Marathon
Sunday, November 09, 2008 7:57 PM
It was 10:20am. The sun was bright and the November morning air chilly and brisk. The gun went off and hundreds of us in the second to last wave of runners took off to run over the bridge. The two towers of the bridge inched closer with each step and its suspension cables appeared enormous in width from up close, as they fell and blended with the edges of the bridge on either side.
Some of you are wondering, what is this? I am writing about the dream I had for many years which realized before my eyes on the morning of Sunday November 2nd – my dream of running those formidable 26.2 miles that make up a marathon. My athletic goal for this year was to run a full marathon. For the past couple of years, I had gradually worked my way up to garner enough confidence to set this goal for myself. I chose the NYC Marathon as my first marathon. The reasons were obvious. It is my hometown marathon, the world's largest marathon event and the most exciting marathon staged in the world. I decided to gain entry into the race through Team For Kids (TFK), a charitable wing of the New York Road Runners Club. I had to raise funds for TFK which would earn me entry into the race. My dream was on its way to become a reality. But that was just the beginning. I had to train my body to endure those 26.2 miles which requires a disciplined training regimen. As soon as I wrapped up my NYC Triathlon in late July, I began working on my marathon training in mid-August. Weekends were set aside for training runs and cross-training. Weekday workout schedules would be set a week in advance after consulting the local weather forecast, which as some of you know, can be fairly unpredictable. I embarked on the grueling training program which was completely chartered by me. No one was consulted. I know my body and its limits more than anyone else. My primary goal was to train myself to finish the marathon without injuring myself. I was completely agreeable to run slow but steady. I trained on rainy days, hot and humid days and frigid mornings. I had to condition my body for all elements because of the unpredictability of race day weather. Preparation for a weekend training schedule would commence mid-week. I would focus on the hours of sleep I would need, the fuel my body required for each long training run and the amount and type of cross-training required to balance the long training runs. No alcohol on Friday and Saturday nights, early bedtimes were enforced and social events were kept to the minimum. I remember abruptly canceling all of my weekend social engagements for some days in September and all of October. Success doesn't come without sacrifice. It also doesn't come without the support of one's loved ones, who in my case, are my friends. Each one of them supported me along my journey to the Finish Line. I must take this opportunity right here to thank each one of you – you know who you are – for your love and support.
It wasn't easy. I had to finish all of my long training runs by the first Sunday of October – a month prior to race day. That was my goal. So, the Sundays in September were each allotted a 20-miler, a 22-miler, a 24-miler and finally a 26-miler. Conventional coaching wisdom does not recommend running the entire 26 miles during the training period but those who know me well enough know that I am not the one to follow popular convention. I wanted to endure the 26 miles prior to the race. I did. Oh dear! Those training runs were an intense test of grit and determination. Running alone without an iPod blasting music in my ears was not just a test in endurance but also a test of focus. Running a marathon, to me is all about covering the distance and overcoming the odds that come before you. "Keep moving, no matter what happens. Don't give up." Quite like a lesson of life. It teaches patience, sharpens one's focus and in the process, strengthens your mind and body. Well, I was unprepared for it. Since I was training alone without the watchful eye of a coach, I had to not merely cover those distances but also motivate myself into doing so and, often push myself harder to step out of my comfort zones.
Training was wrapped up by the first Sunday of October and then began the taper. After running the longest training run, we taper the training by shortening the distances as we get closer to race day. Cross training via biking, swimming and running continued along side.
As we got closer to race day, I fretted over all things that could go wrong. I stopped biking for the fear that I might crash and injure myself. Instead I took to swimming and yoga. Kept myself away from anyone who even remotely displayed symptoms of flu or any other viruses which could potentially pin me to the bed, ultimately rendering me weakened. All went well. Then it happened. A week prior to the race, on a Friday evening, I went grocery shopping. I emerged from the store laden with four brimming Whole Foods shopping bags, plus my yoga mat and a super stuffed office bag slung over my shoulders. Donning the beast of burden image, I lugged the burden from Manhattan to Staten Island, completely unconscious of the abuse I was inflicting upon my back. The back was severely compromised. Next morning I threw out my back. Typically it takes 4 to 5 days to recover. That was cutting too close to race day Sunday. I panicked. When I throw my back out, I allow it to heal on its own. I don't allow anyone to touch it. And it heals just fine. Popping pills is not in my nature. I will avoid it all costs, if it is avoidable. I must suffer through the pain which ultimately diminishes and dies away. This time, however, I panicked. Carissa, who sits next to me at work couldn't take anymore of my moaning and lamenting and scheduled an appointment with her physical therapist. I was on the physical therapist's table the next morning. Electric charges were discharged into my lower back and traction rollers pushed my body up and down. The therapist stretched me out in every way possible. Only two days left for race day. I felt slightly better.
Stress began to gnaw at me. My confidence swung in all directions like the Dow Jones Index. Many of my friends had indicated they would come cheer for me along the route and, also see me at the Finish Line which required some organization. I took care of that and locked myself in my apartment on Saturday – the day before the race. Monica called from Jordan for a pep talk. Those of you who don't know her, she caused this madness in my life. We spoke on the phone for almost 2 hours and she asked several questions about my training and race running strategy. She seemed quite satisfied with my answers. The pep talk really helped! Her words echoed in my mind as I ran the next day. Saturday also witnessed some stressed induced digestive issues but that is also the day when one is required to stuff calories into the body – the eagerly awaited "carbo-load". It is akin to fattening the cow before slaughtering it. Tiffany was in charge of my pre- and post- race calories. She prepared pasta with a delicious tomato-mushroom sauce which I consumed and retired early to bed. Could not sleep all night. I was awake on Sunday morning at 5am. Marc and Tiffany were to pick me up at 8:45am and deposit me at Fort Wadsworth by 9am. Loretta called me dutifully at 7am. We chatted for half hour. Her race day call always brings me luck; yes, it is weird, but hey, if it works so be it. I was deposited at Fort Wadsworth by 9am. I found my corral and waited for the moment to arrive when we move on to the Bridge and start the race.
The gun went off and we lunged forward as a wave. Our strides took us over the Verrazano Bridge which afforded us the most spectacular vistas of the NY Harbor and New York City. Runners ran to the edges of the bridge and began taking photographs. The race start is incredibly thrilling quite like a panoramic aerial opening sequence of an action-packed Hollywood blockbuster. The first mile over the bridge is an incline, more like a ramp that we all run over. Although it is uphill, I didn't feel any stress on my body perhaps because it is a gradual climb and I had trained hard running up and down steep hills in Staten Island. One is so taken by the views from the bridge that before I knew it, I was at the other end of the bridge in Brooklyn. The first part is so thrilling that one is fueled by the adrenalin rush and could be tempted to run really fast. I was determined not to do so. Monica and I had discussed this on Saturday. I started slow and allowed others to run past me. As we entered Brooklyn, we were greeted by large, loud cheering crowds. The cacophony infuses such energy that instead of running, one rides over the surge of the loud cheers that greet you as a runner along the route. It is the most incredible and amazing feeling. We were greeted by thousands of people everywhere we went who cheered for us at the top of their voices, employing their full lung capacity. New Yorkers are truly amazing in this respect which makes the entire experience so energy-charged. The cheering never ends along the 26.2-mile route. It only intensifies. Music on loud speakers is played everywhere and the entire race route is sprinkled with live band performances. It is truly a 26.2 mile party! I can not take you mile-by-mile through the entire race here in my write-up (because it could take you 4 hours to read it!) but I will encapsulate the experience as profound, stunning, exhilarating and spectacular.
The NYC Marathon is a very well organized event. The large scale magnitude of the running event is shouldered by an army of volunteers who make sure that all goes well at the start, along the course and at the end of the race. Water and Gatorade stations, toilets and medical tents are located every mile or every two miles all along the route. I made two toilet stops along the way and one very brief stop to peel off a layer of clothing and toss it away on the Queensboro Bridge. Prior to the race I was certain that I would walk some distance but I didn't. Even at the worst moments when my legs, ankles, feet, knees and hips were collectively protesting, I was disinclined to walk. I feared that if I stopped or walked I wouldn't be able to pick up the pace and run again. So, I kept running, even if it was at the slowest pace. We started in Staten Island, ran over the Verrazano Bridge into Brooklyn, ran through Brooklyn into Queens over the Pulaski Bridge and then entered Manhattan via the Queensboro Bridge, exited Manhattan via the Willis Avenue Bridge into Bronx and then re-entered Manhattan via the Madison Avenue bridge and finished the race in Central Park. I ran through the NYC neighborhoods I hadn't visited in the 13 years of my residency and fell in love with NYC all over again. As I ran through the neighborhoods, I saw the world unfold before me. Smiling faces of different parts of the globe lined up to spectate. It was a remarkable display and reaffirmation of what this City is all about – a melting pot. I am so happy I live here and this is my home.
I didn't look at my watch until I crossed mile 20. I didn't want to know how fast or slow I was going. When I crossed mile 20, I checked my watch and couldn't believe my eyes. I was almost certain that my watch was malfunctioning. I was running almost 30 minutes faster than my estimated running time. I pulled out my Blackberry phone and checked the time which confirmed that my watch was indeed correct. I was thrilled beyond words. I also saw that I had a voicemail from my friend Heather who I had missed at the base of the Madison Avenue Bridge. I dialed her number as I was running and in between halting gasps of breath I informed her of my exact location. She informed everyone else that I was running faster than expected and would likely finish the race sooner.
Along the route I searched for familiar faces but saw none. Only three miles to go and I was about to turn into Central Park. It was somewhere here I was to find my friend Heidi. I searched really hard but there was no sign of her. Multitudes lined up on either side of the street and the roar of cheers greeted us everywhere. The noise was deafening. I searched for Heidi's face among those multitudes. I was desperate to see a familiar face. At this point I was running on very low fuel. A familiar face would have helped enormously. I was approaching mile 24 and my legs began to buckle. Pain ripped through my hips which felt dislocated from the rest of my body. My feet were swollen and knees and ankles were in great distress but my heart rate was just fine and breathing was normal. I was now in Central Park with slightly less than 2 miles to go and suddenly I spotted Heidi standing across the street with a banner "GO DEEPAK G GO". I lunged across with all my might in her direction and managed to yell her name. She looked at me and screamed! That scream sent a bolt of energy through my limp body and I darted ahead. It was amazing how suddenly my lifeless body was super-charged. I just allowed myself to roll with the momentum. There were more bends ahead in the last mile and the noise factor was even higher by a few decibels. My eyes searched for the Finish Line and then I saw it…….it was right there about 300 yards from me. My dream was no longer a dream. It was ready to be a reality in a few moments. A groan escaped me, my eyes were peeled at the Finish Line as it inched closer and closer with every step I took. This was the moment I had envisioned for months. It was just then I crossed over the finish line sensors and I heard the beep as my electronic chip was read and recorded. I can still hear that beep in my head. That was the sweetest sound I have heard in recent times. It was over. I checked my watch - I finished the race in 4 hours 36 minutes and 45 seconds.
I received my Finisher's medal at 72nd street but had to walk over five streets to exit the park at 77th street. That stretch was packed with runners. We were inching our way to the exit. Every part of my body ached. The pain was often unbearable. I wanted to sit but it is highly recommended that we keep walking or remain on our feet for at least 20 minutes after finishing the race. It took us almost 30 minutes to walk from 72nd street to 77th street exit. There the electronic chip was removed from my sneakers and suddenly I heard my name called out. It was Helga! Monica's mom! It was a miracle that she was able to recognize me. I was absolutely thrilled to see her. Helga was one of the race volunteers helping out the finishers. When I met her I was in great agony and my left foot was experiencing severe cramps. Walking was unspeakably laborious. My heart leapt with joy and I hugged Helga with all my might. She attended to me and helped me be comfortable. After finishing the race, I felt my body was in shock. The sun was dying away and it was cold and windy. I was freezing!! My sweat-soaked clothes made it worse. From my position in the crowds, I searched for my group of friends who were also looking for me. Just then I spotted my ex-boyfriend. His 6 feet 4 inch stature was most helpful as he towered over the rest of the crowds. Next to him was Carissa, who rose up to his hips only but held a huge banner with "Congratulations!!! Deepak Ghosh!!! Marathoner!!!". Later I learned the banner was Loretta's handiwork. All of my friends who had arrived to greet me found me and hugs, kisses, screams of joyous words spilled everywhere. My joy was boundless. Three months of hard training had culminated to this moment. My athletic goal of the year was attained. 26.2 miles covered and many more 26.2 miles await me. A milestone of my life was covered. That grossly obese asthmatic kid of yore was today a marathoner. I felt it at that moment, somewhere far, far away, I had done my dad proud.
Deepak
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