2. Snow Run 2010
Snow Run from Nick Cucci on Vimeo.
The video sums things up nicely, but only covers a very small section of the run. The run was, of course, inspired by the Station Ovation run and my excitement for running in the snow. I looked at the weather forecast and saw that it called for snow...and a lot of it. I quickly composed an email to co-workers:
"I’m preparing for a fun run through the snow tomorrow…the more snow the better. Anyone want to join?"
The first response was the infamous Paul Leone:
"Only if I can wear 2.5 in split legs, no shirt, and an American flag."
And the snow run was born. RSVPs came in and we figured out how ridiculously little clothing we could conceivably wear without frostbite. Paul mapped out a ~10K route. The next day we monitored the weather outside and waited for the optimal moment to depart.
We left from the office and headed toward Union Square with the flag flying high. When we got to Union Square, there was a quick snowball fight with a couple 12-year olds, who immediately started whining after they started said fight. From there, we ran north stopping to pose with a Statue of Liberty.
We made our way up to Grand Central Station and ran a lap through the building while chanting "U-S-A, U-S-A" to the delight, consternation, and puzzlement of the insanely crowded building. From Grand Central, we made our way over to Times Square, while singing the Star Spangled Banner.
In Times Square, we once again chanted "U-S-A" and waved Old Glory at people sitting warmly inside restaurants. Cheers continued to pour in from on-lookers and passersby, and we collected countless high-fives. From there, we ran down and looped around Madison Square Garden before heading over to the post office on 8th Avenue.
At the post office, we went inside. We were required by security to walk while in the building, but they were amused by us. We snapped a few pictures on the steps of the post office and then ran back to the office to shower, change, and warm up with some spiked apple cider. We did one more snow run last winter, but it didn't eclipse the original.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Monday, September 13, 2010
Top Ten Running Experiences: Number Three
3. Seventh Place finish at Knickerbocker 60K
The 2008 Knickerbocker 60K was my third Knickerbocker, and the race will always have a special place in my heart since it was also the first ultra I ever did. The first year I finished in about 6.5 hours. The second I ran just under 6 hours. In the four weeks prior to the '08 60K, I had done both the Chicago and New York City marathons, so I knew I was in shape for race. However, the only goal I had was to try and set a new PR.
The weather forecast called for thunderstorms all day, which, contrary to what most people would prefer, excited me. I was ready for an epic battle with Mother Nature. I sent out emails asking friends to come by and run a lap of the course with me, and got a few people to commit. The morning of the race, the sky was gray with impending rain. I milled around the start and waiting for the race to begin. I talked with a few people I knew and then the race started in its usual informal fashion.
The race course consists of a short out-and-back section followed by 9 four-mile loops in Central Park. As I ran north on the out-and-back, I noticed I could still see the race leader, so when people started making the turn to come back, I counted the number of people in front of me--six. I laughed knowing I'd probably gone out too fast. I settled in to what felt like a comfortable pace and waited for people to start passing me, but a funny thing happened. No one really passed me. I ran through a short period of heavy rain and had friends join me throughout the race, but the flood of people passing me never happened.
I battled bouts of fatigue with the help of friends and found myself finishing in the top 10 overall. I blew away my PR, my goal, and snagged my best finish ever in a race. I managed a sub 8:30 pace for 37.2 miles. Not bad for a guy who is admittedly not very fast.
For a detailed race report, head over here.
The 2008 Knickerbocker 60K was my third Knickerbocker, and the race will always have a special place in my heart since it was also the first ultra I ever did. The first year I finished in about 6.5 hours. The second I ran just under 6 hours. In the four weeks prior to the '08 60K, I had done both the Chicago and New York City marathons, so I knew I was in shape for race. However, the only goal I had was to try and set a new PR.
The weather forecast called for thunderstorms all day, which, contrary to what most people would prefer, excited me. I was ready for an epic battle with Mother Nature. I sent out emails asking friends to come by and run a lap of the course with me, and got a few people to commit. The morning of the race, the sky was gray with impending rain. I milled around the start and waiting for the race to begin. I talked with a few people I knew and then the race started in its usual informal fashion.
The race course consists of a short out-and-back section followed by 9 four-mile loops in Central Park. As I ran north on the out-and-back, I noticed I could still see the race leader, so when people started making the turn to come back, I counted the number of people in front of me--six. I laughed knowing I'd probably gone out too fast. I settled in to what felt like a comfortable pace and waited for people to start passing me, but a funny thing happened. No one really passed me. I ran through a short period of heavy rain and had friends join me throughout the race, but the flood of people passing me never happened.
I battled bouts of fatigue with the help of friends and found myself finishing in the top 10 overall. I blew away my PR, my goal, and snagged my best finish ever in a race. I managed a sub 8:30 pace for 37.2 miles. Not bad for a guy who is admittedly not very fast.
For a detailed race report, head over here.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Top Ten Running Experiences: Number Four
4. Qualifying for Boston
After a huge PR in 2008, I found myself back at the Poconos Marathon in 2009 gunning for Boston. I knew the course, and with good weather, I was confident I could run a sub 3:10 and finally qualify for the Boston Marathon. I'd tried to qualify in fall of 2008 to qualify in Chicago, but the heat caused me to blow-up at mile 19.
Throughout most of my training, I wasn't feeling like I was hitting the pace I needed to qualify, but my last few long runs felt really good. The weather on race morning was much like the previous year, except that it was quite windy. I wasn't too sure how this was going to affect my race. I went out for a warm-up jog and tried to get myself focused. After checking in my bag, I chatted with Chris Solarz while we waited on the race to begin.
I had my strategy for the race that Coach Cane had briefed me on--come through the half between 1:34 and 1:35, then pick up the pace if I felt good. With my ultimate goal being to qualify for Boston, a 3:10 did the same thing as a 3:05, so there was no reason to risk blowing up trying to run a 3:05. The gun fired and I set out through the rolling hills with Solarz right beside me. As the wind blew stiffly in our faces, Solarz pointed to a tall guy who was running roughly my pace and said, "tuck behind him."
I jumped in behind the tall guy and drafted off of him until the course turned and I caught a tailwind. I felt like I was flying with several splits coming in under 7 minutes, including one in the low 6s (nice downhill mile). When I reached the halfway mark, I hit it at 1:32:26 and some change. I was faster than the plan, but I was feeling great. I first got the feeling that I was going to easily qualify for Boston, however, I kept reminding myself that I felt great in Chicago through 19 miles and still fell apart.
The miles continued to come easy through mile 19, but I kept reminding myself that the wheels could come off at any time. I fought through the rolling hills to mile 24, at which point, I knew I had a BQ time. I was still pushing it out of my mind and just trying to get through the race. I didn't want to celebrate too early. As I entered the high school track for the final .2 miles, a smile crept across my face. I rounded the second turn and looked across the stadium at the finish line.
I was about to qualify for Boston by well over 5 minutes. All the emotion and hard work flooded in, and the realization of achieving my goal overtook me. I started hyper-ventilating. I panicked. There was no way I was going to pass out that close to my goal. I concentrated and steadied my breathing on the back stretch before rounding the last turn and finished strong.
My official time was 3:05:13. I'd qualified for Boston and run both halves of the marathon within 13 seconds of each other.
To see my splits, click here.
After a huge PR in 2008, I found myself back at the Poconos Marathon in 2009 gunning for Boston. I knew the course, and with good weather, I was confident I could run a sub 3:10 and finally qualify for the Boston Marathon. I'd tried to qualify in fall of 2008 to qualify in Chicago, but the heat caused me to blow-up at mile 19.
Throughout most of my training, I wasn't feeling like I was hitting the pace I needed to qualify, but my last few long runs felt really good. The weather on race morning was much like the previous year, except that it was quite windy. I wasn't too sure how this was going to affect my race. I went out for a warm-up jog and tried to get myself focused. After checking in my bag, I chatted with Chris Solarz while we waited on the race to begin.
I had my strategy for the race that Coach Cane had briefed me on--come through the half between 1:34 and 1:35, then pick up the pace if I felt good. With my ultimate goal being to qualify for Boston, a 3:10 did the same thing as a 3:05, so there was no reason to risk blowing up trying to run a 3:05. The gun fired and I set out through the rolling hills with Solarz right beside me. As the wind blew stiffly in our faces, Solarz pointed to a tall guy who was running roughly my pace and said, "tuck behind him."
I jumped in behind the tall guy and drafted off of him until the course turned and I caught a tailwind. I felt like I was flying with several splits coming in under 7 minutes, including one in the low 6s (nice downhill mile). When I reached the halfway mark, I hit it at 1:32:26 and some change. I was faster than the plan, but I was feeling great. I first got the feeling that I was going to easily qualify for Boston, however, I kept reminding myself that I felt great in Chicago through 19 miles and still fell apart.
The miles continued to come easy through mile 19, but I kept reminding myself that the wheels could come off at any time. I fought through the rolling hills to mile 24, at which point, I knew I had a BQ time. I was still pushing it out of my mind and just trying to get through the race. I didn't want to celebrate too early. As I entered the high school track for the final .2 miles, a smile crept across my face. I rounded the second turn and looked across the stadium at the finish line.
I was about to qualify for Boston by well over 5 minutes. All the emotion and hard work flooded in, and the realization of achieving my goal overtook me. I started hyper-ventilating. I panicked. There was no way I was going to pass out that close to my goal. I concentrated and steadied my breathing on the back stretch before rounding the last turn and finished strong.
My official time was 3:05:13. I'd qualified for Boston and run both halves of the marathon within 13 seconds of each other.
To see my splits, click here.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Top Ten Running Experiences: Number Five
5. Station Ovation
The Runners' Station was big part of RUN NYC programming for years, even before I came on board. Many people in our office had managed or been involved with the Station, and the beloved track house had even been picked up and moved to different locations on the West Side Highway several times. It was a staple for many NYC runners during the summer and was even home to our 26.2 Training Program last year.
Early January of this year marked the end of the beloved Station. It was slated to be razed early in the morning on a Friday. Several of us in the office decided we needed to go say our "goodbyes" to the little shack before it destroyed. We made plans to meet on the Lower East Side in the morning and run to the Station on the west side to watch it be torn down. In typical fashion, a simple run turned into a whirlwind of ideas. Soon, "Station Ovation" shirts were constructed, race bibs were located, and outfits were discussed.
I showed up at our predetermined meeting place on Friday morning, to only find Shaun waiting. No one else had showed, despite several people living in the neighborhood.
Shaun and I left from the Lower East Side and made our way south. It was a very cold morning. As we ran in our matching shirts and race bibs, we started asking people where Central Park was. We acted confused and said we were trying to find the start of "the race." Eventually Shaun began stopping people to ask for directions. One lady even mapped out directions on her iPhone for us. Who said New Yorkers aren't helpful? People looked even more confused after they directed us north and then we said "thanks" and headed south.
Eventually, we reached the Station, where destruction had already begun. Ross and Christina were waiting there. We took a few pictures, grabbed some souvenirs from the Station, and made a quick champagne toast. I said my final goodbye to the Station and then we went to a restaurant to grab breakfast before going in to work.
As we were finishing breakfast, Paul Leone (you might remember him from the Honorable Mention post) made his grand entrance. It was below freezing outside and Paul entered wearing very, very short running shorts and his sleeveless "Station Ovation" shirt. But what really put an exclamation on his wardrobe was the full-size American flag he was carrying. Paul also brought along our Derek-head-on-a-stick.
I need to explain a couple things before moving on. We have a love for America around our office. GBA (God Bless America) is a common phrase, we once had a column in the office adorned with patriotic pictures that we dubbed "The Pillar of Patriotism," and we pretty much try to bring America into anything and everything. Mebmerica, anyone? And look out if the US is playing any country in any sport. We'll be decked out in red, white, and blue. There might even be face paint involved. Its infectious. My non-work friends are on the America bandwagon. How can you not love this country? GBA! The other thing to explain is that Derek was around and involved with the Runners' Station since its inception. However, Derek was in LA for work, so we printed his head out (a photoshopped picture, of course) and mounted it on a stick.
Now, back to the morning of January 8th. Paul finished off all the leftover food on our plates and we ventured outside. It was now snowing. With our matching shirts and bibs, Derek-on-a-stick, and the American flag, Paul, Shaun, and I set out to run from downtown Manhattan back to the office in Chelsea. With the flag waving, passing cars honked, motorists yelled encouragement, and passersby cheered. The three of us fed off the energy and started yelling "we set the record!" When people inevitably asked, "what record?" we told them "the RECORD!" This developed into a story of running cross-country from LA to New York, saying we lost Derek in Missouri to injury, but kept him with us in spirit with the head-on-a-stick. The tale got taller and taller as people bought each incremental piece of story one of us would fabricate. We started posing for pictures and even ran through a movie set. By the end of the run, I could hardly run because I was laughing so hard at times.
This run planted the seed for some future runs, which incorporated the American Flag, snow, and being under-dressed. And Derek-on-a-stick made a few more appearances at social events until he was lost one night. Leone posted a craigslist ad asking for his return, but we never recovered him. Luckily, the read Derek returned from LA safe and sound.
The Runners' Station was big part of RUN NYC programming for years, even before I came on board. Many people in our office had managed or been involved with the Station, and the beloved track house had even been picked up and moved to different locations on the West Side Highway several times. It was a staple for many NYC runners during the summer and was even home to our 26.2 Training Program last year.
Early January of this year marked the end of the beloved Station. It was slated to be razed early in the morning on a Friday. Several of us in the office decided we needed to go say our "goodbyes" to the little shack before it destroyed. We made plans to meet on the Lower East Side in the morning and run to the Station on the west side to watch it be torn down. In typical fashion, a simple run turned into a whirlwind of ideas. Soon, "Station Ovation" shirts were constructed, race bibs were located, and outfits were discussed.
I showed up at our predetermined meeting place on Friday morning, to only find Shaun waiting. No one else had showed, despite several people living in the neighborhood.
Shaun and I left from the Lower East Side and made our way south. It was a very cold morning. As we ran in our matching shirts and race bibs, we started asking people where Central Park was. We acted confused and said we were trying to find the start of "the race." Eventually Shaun began stopping people to ask for directions. One lady even mapped out directions on her iPhone for us. Who said New Yorkers aren't helpful? People looked even more confused after they directed us north and then we said "thanks" and headed south.
Eventually, we reached the Station, where destruction had already begun. Ross and Christina were waiting there. We took a few pictures, grabbed some souvenirs from the Station, and made a quick champagne toast. I said my final goodbye to the Station and then we went to a restaurant to grab breakfast before going in to work.
As we were finishing breakfast, Paul Leone (you might remember him from the Honorable Mention post) made his grand entrance. It was below freezing outside and Paul entered wearing very, very short running shorts and his sleeveless "Station Ovation" shirt. But what really put an exclamation on his wardrobe was the full-size American flag he was carrying. Paul also brought along our Derek-head-on-a-stick.
I need to explain a couple things before moving on. We have a love for America around our office. GBA (God Bless America) is a common phrase, we once had a column in the office adorned with patriotic pictures that we dubbed "The Pillar of Patriotism," and we pretty much try to bring America into anything and everything. Mebmerica, anyone? And look out if the US is playing any country in any sport. We'll be decked out in red, white, and blue. There might even be face paint involved. Its infectious. My non-work friends are on the America bandwagon. How can you not love this country? GBA! The other thing to explain is that Derek was around and involved with the Runners' Station since its inception. However, Derek was in LA for work, so we printed his head out (a photoshopped picture, of course) and mounted it on a stick.
Now, back to the morning of January 8th. Paul finished off all the leftover food on our plates and we ventured outside. It was now snowing. With our matching shirts and bibs, Derek-on-a-stick, and the American flag, Paul, Shaun, and I set out to run from downtown Manhattan back to the office in Chelsea. With the flag waving, passing cars honked, motorists yelled encouragement, and passersby cheered. The three of us fed off the energy and started yelling "we set the record!" When people inevitably asked, "what record?" we told them "the RECORD!" This developed into a story of running cross-country from LA to New York, saying we lost Derek in Missouri to injury, but kept him with us in spirit with the head-on-a-stick. The tale got taller and taller as people bought each incremental piece of story one of us would fabricate. We started posing for pictures and even ran through a movie set. By the end of the run, I could hardly run because I was laughing so hard at times.
This run planted the seed for some future runs, which incorporated the American Flag, snow, and being under-dressed. And Derek-on-a-stick made a few more appearances at social events until he was lost one night. Leone posted a craigslist ad asking for his return, but we never recovered him. Luckily, the read Derek returned from LA safe and sound.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Top Ten Running Experiences: Number Six
6. Thirty-Three Minute PR
I was in the middle of training for the 2008 Finger Lakes 50 miler. While screwing around online, as i often do, and stumbled upon a small race in Pennsylvania with a fast course profile and low entry fee. It was a Wednesday, and I was coming off a 50+ mile weekend--9 miles on Friday, 24 on Saturday, and 20 on Sunday. The race was four days away, and I didn't have a car, but paid the $45 entry fee anyway. I started asking around to borrow a car and then ran another 12 miles that night.
At that point, I'd never had a good marathon. My PR hovered right at 3:48, but I felt like I could run a 3:30 in good conditions. At the time eight-minute miles felt quick, but sustainable, especially on a fast course. I set 3:30 as my optimistic goal for the day and decided I would be happy with anything under 3:45.
I didn't want to get breakfast until I was closer to the race because I knew there was a shuttle bus to the start and then a wait for the gun. When I got close to the registration area, I realized I'd made a poor choice. There was nowhere to get breakfast with the exception of McDonald's. I had to eat something, so I grabbed two bacon, egg, and cheese biscuits and quickly ingested both of them. I drove to the packet pick-up, grabbed my bib, and then climbed aboard a school bus. Only getting a few hours of sleep, I slipped in and out of consciousness on the bus ride. It was a cool, foggy morning, which was perfect running weather as far as I was concerned.
I went into the school gym next to the start to pin on my bib, go to the bathroom, and stretch. Afterward, I checked my bag, warmed up, and found my place among the small group of starters. The race started and I found a pace that felt pretty easy as I navigated the rolling hills that speckled the first four miles or so of the course. Just before starting the big downhill section of the race, I caught up with a gentleman and we started chatting. The miles flew by as we talked and I felt great. Just before mile 12 the gentlemen said he was going to dial it back and wished me luck on my race.
When I came through the halfway point in just over 1:37, I realized I had just run my fastest half marathon ever. I laughed to myself thinking I was probably going to blow up at some point even though I was still feeling good. Around mile 16, I started to feel a rumble in my stomach (McDonalds for breakfast?). I tried to ignore it, but the sensation grew stronger with each footfall. Approaching mile 19, I knew I was going to have to stop very soon or I was going to be in trouble. I was surveying the trees and bushes looking for a discreet area when I noticed a port-a-potty sitting just past the mile marker for 19. I was able to take care of business and get back on the course.
From Mile 19 on, the course was rolling hills until the last two flat miles. My pace slowed slightly, but I was feeling strong. I started doing the math in my head and realized I was likely going to go sub-3:30. Wait, no, sub-3:20! I just had to hold on. As we came into Stroudsburg I found myself running next to a woman who looked strong but fatigued. Someone shouted that she was the 5th place woman. She muttered to me that she didn't care she just wanted to be done with the race. I laughed and said, "I could walk in and still PR." We didn't say anything else for the rest of the race, but we ran together through to nearly the finish.
As I turned into the parking lot at the school, I saw my watch change from 3:10:59 to 3:11. I could see the finish line. It wasn't close, but I could see it. That's how close I was to qualifying for Boston...by accident. Once I hit the cinder track for the final .2 miles, I kicked in to another gear and pulled ahead of the woman. I crossed the finish line in 3:15:42, marking a PR of 32 minutes and 54 seconds! I was not only ecstatic but completely shocked. I never dreamt that I would break 3:30, much less break 3:20.
I rode that high right through to the finish of my first 50 miler and beyond. That almost 33 minute PR was my break-through race. It completely changed my mentality regarding my running. Boston was in sight--something I didn't previously think possible. All the miles have come easier since that day in 2008. It opened a whole new world of running I never thought possible.
I was in the middle of training for the 2008 Finger Lakes 50 miler. While screwing around online, as i often do, and stumbled upon a small race in Pennsylvania with a fast course profile and low entry fee. It was a Wednesday, and I was coming off a 50+ mile weekend--9 miles on Friday, 24 on Saturday, and 20 on Sunday. The race was four days away, and I didn't have a car, but paid the $45 entry fee anyway. I started asking around to borrow a car and then ran another 12 miles that night.
At that point, I'd never had a good marathon. My PR hovered right at 3:48, but I felt like I could run a 3:30 in good conditions. At the time eight-minute miles felt quick, but sustainable, especially on a fast course. I set 3:30 as my optimistic goal for the day and decided I would be happy with anything under 3:45.
I didn't want to get breakfast until I was closer to the race because I knew there was a shuttle bus to the start and then a wait for the gun. When I got close to the registration area, I realized I'd made a poor choice. There was nowhere to get breakfast with the exception of McDonald's. I had to eat something, so I grabbed two bacon, egg, and cheese biscuits and quickly ingested both of them. I drove to the packet pick-up, grabbed my bib, and then climbed aboard a school bus. Only getting a few hours of sleep, I slipped in and out of consciousness on the bus ride. It was a cool, foggy morning, which was perfect running weather as far as I was concerned.
I went into the school gym next to the start to pin on my bib, go to the bathroom, and stretch. Afterward, I checked my bag, warmed up, and found my place among the small group of starters. The race started and I found a pace that felt pretty easy as I navigated the rolling hills that speckled the first four miles or so of the course. Just before starting the big downhill section of the race, I caught up with a gentleman and we started chatting. The miles flew by as we talked and I felt great. Just before mile 12 the gentlemen said he was going to dial it back and wished me luck on my race.
When I came through the halfway point in just over 1:37, I realized I had just run my fastest half marathon ever. I laughed to myself thinking I was probably going to blow up at some point even though I was still feeling good. Around mile 16, I started to feel a rumble in my stomach (McDonalds for breakfast?). I tried to ignore it, but the sensation grew stronger with each footfall. Approaching mile 19, I knew I was going to have to stop very soon or I was going to be in trouble. I was surveying the trees and bushes looking for a discreet area when I noticed a port-a-potty sitting just past the mile marker for 19. I was able to take care of business and get back on the course.
From Mile 19 on, the course was rolling hills until the last two flat miles. My pace slowed slightly, but I was feeling strong. I started doing the math in my head and realized I was likely going to go sub-3:30. Wait, no, sub-3:20! I just had to hold on. As we came into Stroudsburg I found myself running next to a woman who looked strong but fatigued. Someone shouted that she was the 5th place woman. She muttered to me that she didn't care she just wanted to be done with the race. I laughed and said, "I could walk in and still PR." We didn't say anything else for the rest of the race, but we ran together through to nearly the finish.
As I turned into the parking lot at the school, I saw my watch change from 3:10:59 to 3:11. I could see the finish line. It wasn't close, but I could see it. That's how close I was to qualifying for Boston...by accident. Once I hit the cinder track for the final .2 miles, I kicked in to another gear and pulled ahead of the woman. I crossed the finish line in 3:15:42, marking a PR of 32 minutes and 54 seconds! I was not only ecstatic but completely shocked. I never dreamt that I would break 3:30, much less break 3:20.
I rode that high right through to the finish of my first 50 miler and beyond. That almost 33 minute PR was my break-through race. It completely changed my mentality regarding my running. Boston was in sight--something I didn't previously think possible. All the miles have come easier since that day in 2008. It opened a whole new world of running I never thought possible.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Top Ten Running Experiences: Number Seven
7. 2008 New York City Marathon
I had already registered for the Chicago Marathon, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to run my first NYC Marathon when I was offered guaranteed entry, even if NYC was only two weeks after Chicago. I was running Chicago to try to qualify for Boston, so I decided NYC would just be for the experience. After experiencing ridiculous heat for the second year in a row, and forever swearing off the Chicago Marathon, I was looking forward to having fun in New York and no caring one bit about my time.
The day didn't start off too great, as the pre-race logistics for the NYC Marathon aren't exactly fun. I had to get up at 3:45 am and catch a bus out to Staten Island only to sit on the ground in a tent freezing for several hours before even lining up for the race.
2008 was the first year the NYC Marathon utilized a wave start and I found myself positioned at the beginning of the second wave of runners. I was also lucky enough to go over the top level of the Verrazano Bridge. Coming down the bridge, I had already made my way to the very front of the wave, so it was open road ahead of me. I almost felt like I was one of the race leaders. Ok, not really.
Running on 4th Ave through Brooklyn, the engine was still burning pure adrenaline. When that started to wear off, I found myself running down Bedford Avenue with college students, hipsters, and other spectators literally spilling onto the street. The energy was great and pushed me through to the Pulaski Bridge and into Queens, where I gave a couple high-fives to kids before entering the 59th Street Bridge. Once ascending the bridge, all the sounds of the city and the race fell silent except the sound of thousands of footfalls echoing from the roof of the bridge. It was an amazing, yet eerie feeling. Just after cresting the apex of the bridge, the echoing footfalls gave way to the increasing sound of a distant crowd of thousands cheering. As I pounded down the bridge, the crowd noise grew to an almost deafening level as I came off the bridge.
First Avenue was lined with thousands upon thousands of people cheering and yelling. I got an instant shot of adrenaline and a huge smile upon my face. The brunt of the runners were sticking to the left-hand side of the street, so I moved over to the right-hand side and started giving high-fives to anyone and everyone that would extend a hand. For sixty blocks I gave out high-fives and exchanged fleeting greetings. I stopped to hug and chat with several people I knew as I made my way toward the Bronx, where things calmed and the crowd thinned.
Luckily, the Bronx section was short and I re-entered Manhattan stopping in Harlem the talk to Coach Cane, NSQ, and Salim. Coach Cane basically forced me back onto the course by telling me to get moving. Once I got south of 110th Street, familiar faces were everywhere as the crowds once again thickened and the roar of cheering returned. I stopped and chatted with Bridget in the 90s, saw some of the RUN NYC crew at Engineer's Gate, and stopped to talk to Stephen as I went down Cat Hill in Central Park. The energy surrounding me was amazing and I gave out high-fives liberally--like it was my job and I was on the fast-track to upper management
I exited the park, turned onto 59th Street, and spotted Amy, who I gave a high-five and a smile before finishing off the length of 59th Street. I re-entered Central Park and cruised toward Tavern on the Green high-fiving every man, woman, and child along the way while yelling loudly with a smile on my face. When I got to the finish line, I graciously tucked into a ball and somersaulted my way over the finish line.
Two weeks before I gave Chicago my all, blew up in the heat, and ran a 3:22. I looked at my watch and saw that even with all the celebrating I did on the course, I still ran a 3:32. Running a marathon through the streets of New York is something that every marathoner should experience if given the opportunity.
I had already registered for the Chicago Marathon, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to run my first NYC Marathon when I was offered guaranteed entry, even if NYC was only two weeks after Chicago. I was running Chicago to try to qualify for Boston, so I decided NYC would just be for the experience. After experiencing ridiculous heat for the second year in a row, and forever swearing off the Chicago Marathon, I was looking forward to having fun in New York and no caring one bit about my time.
The day didn't start off too great, as the pre-race logistics for the NYC Marathon aren't exactly fun. I had to get up at 3:45 am and catch a bus out to Staten Island only to sit on the ground in a tent freezing for several hours before even lining up for the race.
2008 was the first year the NYC Marathon utilized a wave start and I found myself positioned at the beginning of the second wave of runners. I was also lucky enough to go over the top level of the Verrazano Bridge. Coming down the bridge, I had already made my way to the very front of the wave, so it was open road ahead of me. I almost felt like I was one of the race leaders. Ok, not really.
Running on 4th Ave through Brooklyn, the engine was still burning pure adrenaline. When that started to wear off, I found myself running down Bedford Avenue with college students, hipsters, and other spectators literally spilling onto the street. The energy was great and pushed me through to the Pulaski Bridge and into Queens, where I gave a couple high-fives to kids before entering the 59th Street Bridge. Once ascending the bridge, all the sounds of the city and the race fell silent except the sound of thousands of footfalls echoing from the roof of the bridge. It was an amazing, yet eerie feeling. Just after cresting the apex of the bridge, the echoing footfalls gave way to the increasing sound of a distant crowd of thousands cheering. As I pounded down the bridge, the crowd noise grew to an almost deafening level as I came off the bridge.
First Avenue was lined with thousands upon thousands of people cheering and yelling. I got an instant shot of adrenaline and a huge smile upon my face. The brunt of the runners were sticking to the left-hand side of the street, so I moved over to the right-hand side and started giving high-fives to anyone and everyone that would extend a hand. For sixty blocks I gave out high-fives and exchanged fleeting greetings. I stopped to hug and chat with several people I knew as I made my way toward the Bronx, where things calmed and the crowd thinned.
Luckily, the Bronx section was short and I re-entered Manhattan stopping in Harlem the talk to Coach Cane, NSQ, and Salim. Coach Cane basically forced me back onto the course by telling me to get moving. Once I got south of 110th Street, familiar faces were everywhere as the crowds once again thickened and the roar of cheering returned. I stopped and chatted with Bridget in the 90s, saw some of the RUN NYC crew at Engineer's Gate, and stopped to talk to Stephen as I went down Cat Hill in Central Park. The energy surrounding me was amazing and I gave out high-fives liberally--like it was my job and I was on the fast-track to upper management
I exited the park, turned onto 59th Street, and spotted Amy, who I gave a high-five and a smile before finishing off the length of 59th Street. I re-entered Central Park and cruised toward Tavern on the Green high-fiving every man, woman, and child along the way while yelling loudly with a smile on my face. When I got to the finish line, I graciously tucked into a ball and somersaulted my way over the finish line.
Two weeks before I gave Chicago my all, blew up in the heat, and ran a 3:22. I looked at my watch and saw that even with all the celebrating I did on the course, I still ran a 3:32. Running a marathon through the streets of New York is something that every marathoner should experience if given the opportunity.
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