Soon after 9am, I am shut out of my start corral and by the size of the frustrated crowd around me; I’m not the only one. At 10am the starting canon sounds and, as the strains of “New York New York” ring out, we realise we are missing our wave’s start. Runners rock the corral fencing, trying (and in some cases succeeding) to climb the two metre high fencing. There’s a lot of shouting. The marshals are way out of their depth, failing to tell the runners what is happening and why we can’t start our marathons. The NYPD is called in and I turn around and head back the way I had come, to try and find another way through.
Eventually I find a gap and a kind marshal lets a few of us through into the corral. We literally have to sprint through a line of marshals to avoid being chucked out like others we’d seen earlier on. The last hour is almost too much to take in. After a few minutes we reach the slip road on to the Verrazano Narrows Bridge and up ahead I can see the Start sign, as we fall in line with the other runners around us.
This bridge is BIG and crosses the River Hudson, with Manhattan and New Jersey in the distance to the left, before it joins Brooklyn. It’s an impressive way to start a race.
Nearly 10 miles of the 5-borough marathon runs through Brooklyn and it proves my race highlight. The crowd blows my mind and the bands are playing awesome music to the runners. These people are incredible and I can’t stop smiling, particularly when we pass a school band playing “Gonna Fly Now” – the theme to Rocky. Oh Yes – I’m in New York baby!
At around Mile 11 I find my Mum and it’s great to see a familiar face and, as I leave her, I feel full of renewed optimism. I’m feeling good. Past Mile 13 and over the Pulaski Bridge we enter the borough of Queens for what seems like a moment – in reality just over a mile. The route nips and tucks round left and right turns through Mile 14 before joining 59th Street and heading up on to the Queensboro Bridge where we start Mile 15.
At this point the marathon becomes a steep, dark, climb crossing to Manhattan using only one side of the Bridge’s lower deck, making it narrow and difficult to navigate with so many runners. The steel latticework sides of the Bridge allow a view of Manhattan that would be breathtaking if you had much breath. It stinks of sweat and urine and it’s not a lot of fun. Scores of runners are walking and I find it tough weaving around them while climbing on the knee-numbing concrete surface. About ¾ of a mile in, the concrete begins to level off and we descend in the dark, crossing onto the exit ramp. We pass Mile 16 before leaving the Bridge, as the marathon turns a tight-left bend into daylight again.
The growing noise of the huge crowd is impressive after the bridge’s isolation. We round the bend, head under Queensboro Bridge and join First Avenue. I know I’m in Manhattan with the tall, elegant buildings and long, wide streets. The sight of thousands of runners on such a wide street, stretching up to the horizon is both awesome and demoralising. Bloody hell, it’s starting to feel tough – more than I remember from my long training runs. Perhaps it’s the concrete surface on the long climb up through Mile 19 where Manhattan becomes Harlem.
Here, the Willis Avenue Bridge in Harlem marks the end of the island for now, and, as I cross the Harlem River, reaching the 20 Mile point is all I care about. Covered in thin rubber matting for the race, the floor is a diamond-shaped steel grid. Every step over this surface hurts and the relief to hit tarmac in the Bronx is palpable looking at the runners’ faces around me.
The Bronx is where hip-hop originated from and the sound systems take over with rappers and djs uplifting and amusing the runners. I feel pretty battered at this point and need to answer the call of nature and take a time out. I give myself a couple of minutes, walk through the drinks station, take a gel, sort my head out and get running again.
Like Queens, the route only stays in the Bronx for just over a mile and soon we cross the Madison Avenue Bridge back over the Harlem River onto Madison Avenue and onwards eventually to Fifth Avenue and Central Park. “I know I’m heading home when I reach Fifth Avenue,” a veteran had told me earlier on the ferry. I check my Garmin to check my minute/mile pace as I feel I must have slowed down and it’s dead. Less than 10k left; my mind is rebelling, my legs are becoming jellified and even my watch has given up on me.
I get through Miles 21 and 22 and not much seems to be making sense, my numb footfalls don’t seem to be making progress either. As we start to climb up Fifth Avenue I walk through the drinks station at Mile 23, taking on fluid, wondering where my energy is going to come from. After what seems like an eternity the sea of people turns into Central Park behind the Metropolitan Museum of Art and I know there’s 3 miles until I can stop. 3 miles seems like a very long way at the moment though – Central Park is pulling me backwards.
The husband of a woman running behind me leaps out from the crowd and starts running in front of me, backwards. His wife gamely struggles on for the video collection, while I hope that maybe he’s left the lens cap on.
At the Mile 24 drinks station I’m walking again, necking 2 cups of Gatorade without spilling any to try and get some energy back into me. One last gel and maybe that will do it. Here, the route sweeps downhill and hope returns. The downhill is kind and my legs freewheel for a while until we round the bend and another climb appears. Are they serious about this course? For the spectators, the autumnal trees in Central Park are no doubt, a beautiful backdrop as we stream past. I just want to get to the finish and stop now.
Another drinks station appears just before Mile 25 and I down more Gatorade in the hope of instant energy. The wonderful volunteers will me on, while more runners around me are walking, looking beaten up and exhausted. About ¾ of the runners are walking at this point, giving me the impression that their exhaustion could be contagious for the weak of body and mind. I need to get ahead of this bunch before they drag me backwards and, as the route turns on to Central Park South, we head out of the park and along the gentle uphill to Columbus Circle, on the corner of Central Park South and West.
Reaching Columbus Circle I feel nothing good, all bad. There’s a big screen, PA and some bleachers covered with lively supporters. “I Ran”, by A Flock of Seagulls is thundering out of the speakers. It takes a while to register what the song is, but it’s enough to distract me and, as that first chorus jolts me awake, we squeeze back into Central Park.
I had walked the last mile of the course yesterday, so to my relief, this part of the course is familiar as the song comes back into focus. The loud and cheesy chorus is giving me goose bumps as I run under the 26-mile marker. Not much further. Around the bend and up the final hill, in blue and orange, with the bleachers full of wonderful cheering people I can see the Finish line and I’m nearly there. I’m bringing to a close the pain, hard work and uncertainty of my first marathon.
I don’t do the classic arms aloft photo finish as I cross the finish line, because I burst into tears and sob like a baby. I didn’t see that coming! A marshal gives me a hug and congratulates me – somehow he seems to understand. I’ve finished in 4:13:21; about half an hour slower than I was heading for in September, and although I’m drained and feel terrible, I am really proud to have finished what was a tough race for me, after October’s injury.
Now to find my bag and Mum – should be straightforward after the last 26.2 miles right?
This isn’t the Oscars I know, but time to thank my long-suffering family, friends and colleagues.
Special thanks to:
Chas Avis (Royston Runners), Gosia Kuranda and Andy Weiner (Cambridge Medical Centre) for the massage, physiotherapy, treatment and advice through September and October.
I also want to thank all my training partners at Royston Runners who, since my joining in February, have welcomed me and supported me on our running journeys together. You’ve all helped me realise this goal and turned me into a runner, which is still a source of confusion to my family and friends!
I would like to pay tribute to Orchid, the charity I ran the marathon on behalf of. This was my second race for Orchid and the work they do is so inspiring. Orchid funds pioneering research into male specific cancers in the UK. Thanks to the Events Team for the support over the 12 months of Fundraising and to the other Orchid Runners who made the trip. Your turn next year Joris!
And last but not least I would like to thank, Sean Allen (Royston Runners Club Captain, recovering slowly from a horrific motorcycle accident), the man who I ran the last 385 yards for. On my formative club runs Sean would be there up ahead, or beside me, to offer me wise words with a generosity of spirit and/or healthy dose of sarcasm and a mischievous glint in his eye, often revelling in my suffering. More significantly, Sean ignited my love of eating cake after training. Thank you for the inspiration!
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