The 41st Running

3:29:06. That was my time at this year's NYC Marathon. Not a Boston Qualifying time, but it is a PR by 20 minutes. Yeah, I had a calf issue. But bottom line, I didn't have a 3:10 in me. Let's recap this painful, yet glorious event.

"Your calf feels more like a pull." Leslie, my sports massage therapist broke the news to me. I had hoped it was just a knot of some sort that needed to be worked out. I walked gingerly home and took the prescribed epsom salt bath, pondering how my week would go. The compression socks I ordered arrived that day. I would spend most of that week in them. I wouldn't be running until if felt better or the marathon Sunday came, which ever was first. I had 8 days. By Tuesday it did not feel better, so I made an appointment at Finishline PT to get some more advice. Coach Michael has helped me through other injuries and events, including last year's NYC Marathon, and I was counting on the same magic.

Rocking the expo with Syed, Jim, and TNT Elvis

"I don't feel any scar tissue or separation in your muscle," Coach Michael declaired. This was fairly good news. Was my pain just in my head? Definitely not. But it implied the injury was minor. I asked about permanent damage. I was really hoping to be pain free by Sunday, but worst case scenario- if I were to run on it, would I do any permanent damage? "No. You'll be fine. You'll just feel pain. It may warm up and go away." Relief.

"You know what you should do? Dunk your whole leg in ice for 25 minutes every day until the race. That's what I would do." Bart Yasso has quite a bit of experience running through pain, so I heeded his advice. I stopped by the Runner's World booth to purchase my own copy of his book and get it signed. I couldn't help but mention my ailment. I went home that night and wrapped my calf with a large ice pack and did that again on Friday. Saturday, I did it 3 times.

Icing le calf on Saturday night

Sunday I woke up with my calf aching. Not good. But oh well. With Finish Line's blessing, I had no intention of sitting this one out. I got into my gear, and my "throw-away" warm clothes, grabbed my bag, and headed out the door toward the park to meet the Team bus that would take us to Staten Island. I was calm. I had been for a few days. Friends had asked if I was excited and I would hesitate a bit and say either "yes" or "no". You know, I was excited, but I wasn't jumping out of my shoes in excitement. Riding that bus toward the Verrazano Bridge felt familiar. I reflected a bit on just how calm I felt. This would be my 4th marathon, my 2nd NYC marathon. Am I getting used to this type of thing? I’m not quite sure that was it. I couldn’t put my finger on it. It just felt right, like I belonged on that bus. I should be going to Staten Island on Marathon Sunday. What else would I do?

I chatted with some of the other participants on the bus. Murph, a leukemia survivor was aiming for a 3:30 finish. He was capable of going faster, but he factored in some family-hugging time. John, another survivor, was going for sub 3 hours. I admired both of their goals and race plans and admired their strength on so many levels. Their perspective on the race was optimistic. No matter what, it was going to be a great day. And their character- these two guys fought their battle with leukemia, and then joined TNT to fundraise and encourage others. To top it off, they were both quite athletic.

Pre-race lunch included jelly fish, cow stomach, roast pig, beef noodles, clams, chinese broccoli and more

We arrived at Marathon Village and before the team separated into their assigned color corrals, we exchanged hugs and good luck greetings. My group, green, settled on a nice patch of asphalt while we awaited our starting times. I was in wave 1 and would start off at 9:40. My plan was to finish in 3 hours and ten minutes, recover while walking to my bag truck at the finish, meet my family, eat a sandwich, and get my ass back out onto the course before our team’s waive 2 runners passed mile 23.5. No problem.

I sat on my sleeping bag, closed my eyes, and visualized the race for the last time. I played it out in my head, knowing I’d have to deal with some pain, mentally pulling back in the beginning so that I wouldn’t go out to fast, knowing that the end would be tough and I’d have to “hold the line”. That’s my mantra when running hard. Hold the line. It was soon time to line up at the start.

All bundled up, TNT waits patiently for the start.

In corral 6, I started taking off my many layers. First, off came the socks, then my sweat pants and the jacket. I had actually gone out and bought new sweatpants and a new jacket just to toss. Last year I was shivering because I didn’t have enough warm clothes. I don’t really have much in my closet I’m willing to part with. I didn’t want to make the same mistake again. I spent $17 on the winter coat and $7 on the sweatpants. And I ditched them where nyrr would pick them up and donate them. It was a well valued $24 donation.

I warmed up my calf a bit. It was tender. I contemplated taking the ibuprofen in my pocket, but didn’t do it. I looked around, sizing up the runners around me. It’s not really a competition against them- I’m not gonna win this thing- but I was wondering if they were the type that goes out too fast? Are the conservative in the beginning like I planned to be? You can’t really tell by looking, but I was trying. I was truly excited now. The gun went off and 52 seconds later I was crossing the start line. 52 seconds. I can honestly say that there was a point in the race where I was only 52 seconds behind the winner.

Steve captures me as I approach my family and friends on 4th ave.

My first mile split was 8:20- slower than I was planning which was great. Usually I find myself going too fast. Mile 2 was 7:10. That’s right on target. Up Fourth Avenue I was averaging about 7:20 which was a bit faster than I had planned- I was going for 7:25- but it’s Fourth Ave! With all the cheering and being on my home turf, that I was only about 5 seconds faster on average wasn’t too bad. Anthony and Shannon brought their son Braden to cheer all the way from the Jersey shore. Steve and Vicki brought their boy to support me as well. Lisa and Amanda also made it out. And my family came down from upstate to be there for me. Not to mention the TNT cheering! Wow! I saw Robyn at 6th Street and Laura at Baltic. That stretch, I ran a 7:05 split. Sure, it was too fast, but on average I did a good job reigning myself in and never hit my lactic threshold. Things were going quite well… kind of.

That calf of mine ached from the very first step. Specifically, it was painful when I landed on my midsole. I found myself heel striking immediately. Well, more than heel striking- I could feel the impact reverberate in my legs with every step. It was more like heel pounding. It wasn’t the Verrezano shaking; it was me. This did not bode well. I was killing my quads and favoring one side. I had to force myself to land more on my midsole- where it hurt. Getting into a consistent rhythm, while doing this, was difficult. I naturally wanted to avoid pain, of course. That’s when Lady Southpaw’s song "Every Step Together" popped in my head and stayed there throughout most of the race. At 166 beats per minute, it was helping me find a more efficient stride- almost as if the artist created it that way on purpose (she did). It established a rhythm that I couldn’t on my own and distracted me from the pain of each footfall.

TNT pumps me up!

Somewhere in Williamsburg, while Melka was hanging from a lamp post firing off an air horn in support, I was contemplating abandoning my goal. My legs were not feeling as fresh as they should have. After the Lafayette Street hill, around mile 9, my intention was to drop down to 7:10 splits. It wasn’t happening as easily as I was hoping. As I approached the Polaski Bridge and the half way point, I decided to back off. Today wasn’t going to be the day. I’ll still finish strong, just not a 3:10. Perhaps a 3:15.

I flew through Queens, passing more TNT stations and seeing Coach Steve. “How’s it going?” he asked me.

“I’m tired.” I replied with a smile.

“Well you look great!” I don’t know if he was sincere, but the encouragement felt good. As planned, I took it easy on the Queensboro Bridge. After cresting, I ingested a bunch of salt. This bridge, in my mind, is the defining point of the course. If you survive it, you’ll be ok. Well, maybe it’s not just me. Haile Gebrselassie had to pull up here because of his tendinitis. I think he knew it too. He didn’t survive. It was after the bridge, on my way up First Avenue, where my legs began cramping last year. Proactively, I drank more Gatorade early in the course and took in a lot of salt on the bridge, picking up speed as I descended.

Then, on First Avenue, my legs started cramping.

“What the hell?” I thought to myself. “What have I done wrong?” I still don’t have the answer to that. Though I took in more fluid and electrolytes than I did last year, my legs were cramping even earlier in the race. I slowed down. I was expecting to find my family along First Avenue, so I used that as a mental excuse to why I was going slower. I was nervous. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. I looked for their faces. “What am I going to do?” I looked for their signs. “Where’s the next water station?” I couldn’t find them. “I’m going to miss them…”

Suddenly MP popped out on the course. “Hey man, how’s it going?” This is the same MP I did the NPT hike with. The same MP I planned on doing Boston with. The same MP that I will be doing Comrades with. And he lives in Berkeley, CA. He has a habit of showing up three thousand miles away when least expected. He does it so much it’s not really a surprise any more. He’s crazy. I love this guy.

“Hey MP. I’m hurting.” He ran with me. I needed it. Just as I did last year, I started double fisting water and Gatorade. I have to keep these cramps at bay. It was just my left hamstring at first, but soon, both hamstrings, both calves, and my left quad were all cramping. That original calf issue? Yeah, I didn’t feel that anymore.

Coach Pete ran with us a bit heading up to The Bronx. I received cheers all the way up First Avenue from a bunch of familiar and friendly faces. It’s a pretty amazing thing, being part of TNT and running in NYC. I felt like the mayor. I felt like everyone in town knew me. It really was great support.

MP kept me moving forward at a fairly consistent pace of 8:00 per mile, maybe a bit slower than that. I had stopped looking at my watch miles ago. I was fighting those cramps as best I could, but didn’t think I could maintain till the end. As we approached the 5th Avenue Bridge, I let MP know I was going to stop and stretch just after the 21 mile marker. This is where I stopped a year ago to talk with my legs and I was going to do it again.

“Thanks guys. You’re doing great. We’ll figure this out.” I was thinking about why I was cramping so badly. “I gonna push you. I need to you hold on. Hold the line.” I had no intention of backing off as I had last year. My energy level was good. I wasn’t breathing hard, my legs didn’t feel heavy. They were just seizing up. MP waited patiently as I had my two minute stretch session and pep talk. Starting again was hard, but I managed to find a rhythm after a few minutes. MP hung with me until 111th Street. He had a flight to catch. Yeah, he arrived Saturday night and was flying out Sunday evening. He came in running shoes and a fuel belt loaded with amenities. He came for me, just in case I needed him. Did I mention I love this guy?

More friendly faces and TNT cheers along First Avenue encouraged me to finish strong. I pushed up the incline at mile 23 and then started looking for my family. I had missed them on First Avenue, MP confirmed. They were out there for me. I had to be sure to see them. And there they were, at 91st Street, looking for me. I ran by waiving and calling for them, but they didn’t see or hear me. So I stopped, and walked back to them.

“Hey guys, how’s it going?” I said nonchalantly.

“Where did you come from?!” My sister asked in surprise.

“You know, just hanging around.” I walked up to my mom and gave her a big hug. I was inspired my Murph. This was a good idea. I greeted all of my family and thanked them for being here. “Ok, I’m gonna go finish this thing.”

“Do you want the pain killer stuff?” My sister called out. I had her hold some capsaicin just in case.

“No. There’s no holding back the pain now!” I thanked her anyways and took off.

I found the line and I held onto it, pulling harder and running faster. These cramps would not stop me. I was determined. I looked into the crowds and listened to the cheers for TNT. Central Park South was amazing, packed with people supporting us. I was passing a lot of runners- the exact opposite of last year. That felt good. I saw the 800 meter sign. “Yasso,” I thought to myself. I could do this last stretch in 3 minutes if I hold the line. I picked up the pace. The cramps were quite strong, but I was stronger. 400 Meters. We turned into Central Park and that last bit of a hill greeted us. I greeted it back by running faster. I could see the clock at the finish. I ran even faster. I looked up and took in the crowd. I raised my arms in victory as I crossed the finish line.

“Yeah!” I clapped my hands together in approval of the accomplishment and exchanged pleasantries with the runners who finished next to me. I immediately thought to myself, “I want to do this again next year.”

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Recovering with John P.

It took quite a while for my legs to stop cramping. After retrieving my bag, I happened to find John from my Warriors team. He had also just finished and was recovering. I sat with him for a spell, changed into my TNT Coach shirt and made my way to where my family was waiting. I couldn’t run. Walking was challenging. There was no way I could get on the course and run with any participants. But after meeting up with my family and eating a ham sandwich, I stayed on the course to cheer and support. By this time, I had missed all of waive 2 and the beginning of waive three.

I didn’t leave the park until 7 pm or so, cheering on those still finishing up their marathon and waiting on a couple TNT participants from Brooklyn, Carmen and Jenique. It was a long day, but a triumphant one. I’m proud to have been part of this TNT season.