“I need you to carry me to the finish line. Please, do me this one last favor. I promise to back off.” I had been running 8:15 mile splits up to that point. Actually, it was 8:05 splits through the halfway point, but I started slowing down drastically and was about to even more.
“And I promise to give you the proper rest you deserve. I will let you heal. I will focus on strengthening. I will train smarter.” I stretched my hammies as I pleaded with my legs. They had put up with so much abuse this training season, yet they were still willing to carry on.
“Five point two miles left. Less than a loop of Central Park. I promise to back off.” I looked at my watch. One minute had passed turning my 9:30 21st mile split into a 10:35 split. It didn’t matter. I took my pride, folded it neatly, and tucked it into my back pocket. I hit the lap button on my watch and started to run again.
I maintained 10:30 splits the rest of the race, keeping my cramping legs at bay with my slowed pace and a double dose of water and Gatorade at each fuel station. The crowed grew larger and larger as I made my way down 5th avenue. I heard chants of “Go TEAM!” and raised my fist in victory and appreciation every time. “Go TEAM!” is the Team in Training/Leukemia & Lymphoma Society cheer. They were cheering for me because of the effort and work I was putting in for the cause, and that felt good. I even got a “thank you” here and there.
My friend CH-L and her husband ML came out to cheer for me at what I think was mile 23. I almost missed them. At that point I was dreaming of the finish line and cheeseburgers. I did miss a few people at the end, including my sister and a friend LS at mile 25 and a couple colleagues at mile 26. I appreciate the support though. It was really thoughtful of them to make the effort to see me run. Those last few miles were a real battle as opposed to the first two thirds of the race. I was able to spot MA, my sister and LS (the first time at mile 7ish), a bunch of TNT people, other colleagues and friends.
[caption id="attachment_119" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="LS and my sister spot me, but I miss them."]
[/caption]The Verrazano Bridge crossing in the first mile gave me the opportunity to set my mind right. I had seen images of this bridge crossing from the sky and they always looked amazing. I slowed a bit to turn and look ahead of me, to my side, and especially behind me. I was surrounded by a sea of passionate runners. What a sight. And that peeing off the bridge rumor is true. Guys do it. I probably saw fifty guys peeing in the first mile. I don’t know why or where the tradition started. And I wasn’t really interested in partaking.
The energy of the crowd throughout was amazing. There was barely a gap in the course without someone cheering. After experiencing 4th Avenue in Brooklyn, the bridges seemed so quiet lonely. But they offered a natural partition between boroughs. Just with the Verrazano, they gave me time to reflect on the last and prepare for the next. The last bridge, the Madison Avenue Bridge at mile 21, where I had a conversation with my legs, was no different.
[caption id="attachment_120" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Full of energy and excited on 4th Avenue at 11th Street"]
[/caption]I passed the panther sculpture at “Cat Hill” just past mile 25 and was glad to see an old friend. I hadn’t been running in Central Park in a long time. When I did run here, it usually involved Cat Hill and doing repeats. This hill made me strong. I smiled through my gritting teeth at the fond memory. “Almost there,” I said to myself… and to my legs. I had heard that often during the course and the coaches made a point of telling us to ignore the claim. Seriously, some people said this at mile 10. But now I really was almost there.
I wanted to burst with speed leave all of myself on the road, but I couldn’t. I struck a deal with my legs. A promise. And if I broke that promise, I probably would have just crashed into the pavement. Steadily, they carried me onto Central Park South, then back up into the park. The finish line came into view shortly after, along with a grand sense of accomplishment. I raised my arms momentarily in victory as I crossed. “Thank you guys.” I patted my quads again as a volunteer handed me my new shiny medal.
[caption id="attachment_121" align="aligncenter" width="225" caption="Sister and me after the marathon"]
[/caption]Thank you all who supported me and the LLS. We raised $2,641 toward the fight against cancer. I could not have accomplished the fundraising without you and my marathon experience would have been lesser. Your support, with your words of encouragement and your cheers on the road really made an impact and I am grateful.
So in the words of Jay-Z, I’m on to the next one.
