Top Ten Running Experiences: Number One

1. Boston Marathon 2010

Everyone knows that the Boston Marathon is THE marathon.  One has to qualify to get there (sorry, I'm not a fan of charity runners at Boston), and some people try for years to get to Boston.  The entire city shuts down for Patriots Day, so the crowds are thick.  You get to run through Wellesley and Boston College, which are both insane.  For all these reasons, and many more, simply running my first Boston Marathon would land itself on this list.  However,  I didn't just run the Boston Marathon.

I decided to run Boston with an American Flag...and American Flag shorts...and a stars and stripes singlet...with US knee-high socks.  Once again, Paul Leone, makes his way into the story.  Paul said if I ran with the flag, he would jump in and run 10 miles or so while carrying his American flag.

The day before the marathon, I got a text from my co-worker (and friend) Erika asking if I'd wear a powdered wig and collar in the marathon.  I said no.  When I told Paul about it, he immediately said he would.  What resulted was a patriot/Sam Adams/George Washington/Paul Revere outfit.  We would be quite the pair once we met during the race.

As I waited in line with a couple friends to board the bus out to Hopkinton, several people spied my flag and asked if I was running the entire race with it.  One gentleman even gave me tips for carrying it, as he had carried a flag for a marathon previously.  He also warned me that my arms were going to get very, very tired.  I boarded the bus and tried to nap unsuccessfully.  Eventually we arrived in Hopkinton at the school and milled around for a bit, gradually finding a group of our friends.

As we sat around and chatted, a gentleman approached me and asked if I was running with the flag.  I replied that I was.  He shook my and and produced a picture of his son in fatigues.  He thanked me for himself and for his son, who was serving in Iraq.  It was the first taste of what Paul had told me would happen if I ran the marathon with the flag.  Paul had run the Gasparilla Half Marathon a couple months before with a flag and it said it changed things.  What started as somewhat of a joke turned into something more serious and revered.  I was about to find this out myself.

I made my way down to the start line and waited until the race started to raise the flag and start running with it.  As the mass of runner started moving forward, I raised the flag to cheers of the crowd.  With adrenaline pumping, I cruised quickly through the first couple miles, as the course made its way downhill.  A couple miles in I ran into Chris Solarz.  He took pictures of the two of us while we chatted.  Soon after, I ran into Adam.  He and I talked for a bit as we cruised along.  I came through the 10K mark at around 40 minutes and realized I needed to slow down or I was going to have a LONG, painful day.

As I ran, small crowds chanted "U-S-A, U-S-A" and runner after runner came by and thanked me for carrying the flag.  I high-fived everyone from Santa to Homer Simpson to a very obvious trannie.  A couple runners wearing "I Break for Beer" shirts stopped and chugged a couple longnecks somewhere around mile 7 to the cheers of runners and spectators.

Around mile 9 or so, someone told me that my flag had come untied.  I looked up and the top string holding the flag to the pole had broken.  I stopped to fix it and a soldier came over and held the pole for me as I retied the flag with some spare string that Paul had ingeniously recommended I take along. I retied the flag, thanked the soldier, and continued my run.  Each time I passed a group of soldiers (there were many of them), they paused to salute the flag.

I wasn't sure exactly where Paul was going to meet me along the course, but I knew he couldn't miss me.  I also knew one of my friends was holding a sign for me around the 13 mile mark, but I never saw him.  Somewhere around mile 14 Paul and I spotted each other.  I stopped and waited on him to get ready and he told me about his run out to meet me.  Paul donned the powdered wig, threw on his ruffled collar, and the two of us set out to dominate the rest of the Boston course.  Immediately, the crowd took notice and and we started getting comment.  Wellesley soon came up and we entered the "Scream Tunnel."  It was insanity with all the girls hanging over the railing liberally giving out kisses to runners.

A short time later, Paul and I ran into Solarz again and the three of us ran as a group into Boston.  Along the way, we stopped for pictures with a girl dressed as the Statue of Liberty and another guy dressed as a Patriot.  My energy started running low as we neared Heartbreak Hill.  I'd had an injury a few months back and hadn't been able to put in the training volume I needed.  I was looking forward to Heartbreak Hill though, because I knew that at the top of the dreaded hill was the Nike Cheer Zone.  My co-workers would be there and there would be plenty of rowdy college students to help re-energize me.  I kept looking to my right trying to spot the zone, which is why I didn't realize Paul, Solarz, and were running through the Cheer Zone until I was already in it.

Our flags had given us away long before we spotted the Cheer Zone, so Erika and crew were already waiting for us.  As Erika handed Paul and I personalized water bottles filled with some sort of Gatorade concoction and decorated with bells and ribbons, chants of "U-S-A" greeted us.





With renewed energy, Paul, Solarz, and I continued our dominance of the Boston Marathon course.  We gave out high-fives, smiled, yelled, and posed for pictures.  Eventually I noticed Solarz right behind a random guy and he was taking a lot of pictures of the guy's lower half.  I jogged over to where Solarz was and quickly realized why he was taking pictures.  The guy had crapped himself at some point earlier in the race and it was run down his legs, either due to sweat or from him trying to wash it off with cups of water.  It was quite evident that the guy was in some pain from chaffing due to his awkward gait.  I know its' Boston, but I draw the line at running man miles with crap in my pants and on my legs.  MAYBE if it was for a spot at Kona (see IMFL Poop Guy).

As I spotted the Citgo sign and Fenway, another rowdy group of spectators started doing a "U-S-A" chant, so Paul and I immediately started giving out high-fives to everyone with a hand and a pulse.  I was really dragging at that point, but I knew the finish was within reach, so I dug deep, put a smile on my face and continued running.  By the time we turned onto Boylston for the final stretch, you could knock a smile off either of our faces.  Paul bid me farewell and hopped out of the race about a quarter mile before the finish line.  I used that last stretch as a "victory lap" and soaked everything in.  I was finishing the Boston Marathon.  Something I'd once only dreamed of.  I crossed the finish line and then waited on Solarz to come through a few seconds later.  We snapped a quick picture together and then congratulated each other on the finish.

Top Ten Running Experiences: Number Two

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Top Ten Running Experiences: Number Eight

8. Keep Austin Weird 5K 2007


It all started with my father making an innocent, off-hand, and probably sarcastic inquiry regarding when I was going to give him shoes in response to me giving a pair to another family member. My response to him was: pick a race, train for it, and I'll not only give you shoes, I'll run the race with you. I was thinking he'd pick a 5K or a 10K, but he dove in head-first and decided on the marathon.

I sent him shoes shortly after and guided him through marathon training. In June, I flew down for a visit and did a long(er) training run with him in the suffocating Texas heat. I also mentioned that the Keep Austin Weird 5K was that weekend and that we should go down and run it. He agreed, so we found ourselves in downtown Austin walking toward the start line. We had some extra time, so we watched the Crit (bicycle) race for a bit that was going on and then went over to the starting line to find our place among all the costumed runners. My dad and I had elected to simply dress as runners, but we were surrounded by superheros, guys in drag, soldiers in full gear, and an assortment of other "weird" costumes. None of it really phased me until I noticed a group of runners that had a chicken...on a leash.

The run started. My dad and I immediately realized how terrible of an idea it was to eat Freebirds burritos earlier in the evening. I felt like I had a cinder block resting very (un)comfortably in the pit of my stomach. Needless to say, it wasn't the fastest run, but it was a run that my dad and I did together.

Unfortunately, knee problems, and eventually surgery, ended my father's marathon career before it ever got off the ground. We weren't able to run that marathon together (otherwise, you'd definitely see it on this list), but at least we were able to run the 5K. It meant a lot to get to share a running experience with him, as running has carved out such a big portion of my life.

Top Ten Running Experiences: Number Nine

9. The First Annual Multi-State Five-Borough Tour de Bridge Challenge 2K7

A few years ago my friend Jené ran together quite often. I can't recall when the last time we ran together was, but its been a long, long time. However, in '07 it was a different story. We started running together to motivate each other through the winter and it carried on even as temperatures warmed up. Neither of us were keen on running the same routes all the time, so we started to get creative with our runs. The Tour de Bridge Challenge was born from the monotany of running in Central Park. I dreamed up a route that took in all 5 Boroughs, 2 States, and a lot of bridges. I got my friend Kelly to design a shirt for us and we had them printed online, but unfortunately weren't delivered in time for the run.

I got off work in the early afternoon on a Saturday and met Jené at JackRabbit (where we both worked part-time). We dropped our stuff at a co-worker's apartment and then hopped on the 1 train up to the Bronx. After a long train ride, we found ourselves on the Broadway Bridge taking some pictures before running back into Manhattan. The route then went down the West Side to the George Washington Bridge where we did a quick out-and-back to nab our second state. On the way back to New York, we encountered a couple of guys riding bikes loaded with gear. Turned out they were cycling west. They had maps to the end of the Pennsylvania and were going to "wing it" from there. Their destination? Vancouver, maybe Alaska.

After leaving the GW Bridge, we followed the West Side Path down to 57th Street and cut across Manhattan to tackle the 59th Street Bridge. A few blocks before arriving at the Bridge, the sky opened up. Rain-soaked, we consulted a map once on the Queens side and ran south. We crossed the Pulaski Bridge and then sought shelter under some scaffolding to once again consult the map and figure out how to get to the Williamsburg Bridge. We wound through Brooklyn, tackled the Billyburg Bridge, and then swung around to conquer the Manhattan Bridge.

By the time we got to the Brooklyn Bridge, we were soaked through, and the rain was pounding us. There was no one else on the bridge and as the wind picked up, the rain stung as it seared our skin. We laughed and yelled out loud to combat the pain. We re-entered Manhattan and trudged south to the Staten Island Ferry. The rain abaited and we eventually boarded the SI Ferry, shivering in the cold air conditioning. Jené and I opted for hot chocolate over the planned celebratory beer while water pooled under out seats, much to the consternation of the fellow passengers. Once at SI, we jogged through the ferry station and made the return trip to Manhattan.

By the time it was all over, we had conquered two states, five boroughs, and seven bridges. We had a great time doing it, and made plans to make the run and annual event. We've never done it again.

Thanks for the great run Jené...and good luck at IMFL.

Top Ten Running Experiences: Number Ten

10. Pacing at Badwater




For some reason, Badwater has intrigued me since I initially heard of it years ago. I first stumbled up a story about the race back in the mid 1990s while watching an adventure sports show one early Saturday morning. The subject of the segment was none other than Dean Karnazes. I remember thinking how far-fetched running a race like that sounded. It couldn't be humanly possible. But for some reason, the race resonated with me. Nevertheless, I eventually forgot about the race.

Fast forward to 2006 and an interview for a job at JackRabbit Sports. I was sitting across the table from Chris Bergland, a two-time Badwater Finisher. It's only a small sample of the amazing things Chris did, but I always seemed to find myself asking Chris about Badwater over the course of my employment at JackRabbit. Maybe Chris was able to see the future ultra runner in me or maybe he just likes to tell everyone to run Badwater, but I can't tell you how many times he told me, "you should do it." When I ran my first ultra, I had a text waiting from Chris wondering how I did. I saw him at the finish line of my third ultra. He definitely fostered my obsession with long-distance running and Badwater.

Shortly after meeting my friend Stephanie through RUN NYC, she mentioned that she had paced Pam Reed at Badwater the previous year. We exchanged stories--hers, first-hand, mine, rehashed stories from Chris. Then early last year when she mentioned that Pam might need another pacer for Badwater '09, I immediately expressed my interest, while trying to suppress my excitement knowing it was probably just a pipe dream. April came along and I found myself in Queens helping crew/pace for Pam Reed during a 6-day run. That event sealed it, and I found myself planning to head out to Death Valley in July.

I had heard stories of the heat, but I don't think I was really prepared for the furnace that is Death Valley. The heat there made the temperatures in Vegas feel cool. When the wind would blow, it would feel like someone turned on a hair dryer. The only thing I can really liken it to is climbing into your car during the summer in Texas, starting the car, and then blasting the heater on your face.

On race morning, we packed up at the hotel before heading down to the start. I think I might have been more excited than Pam. Afterall, she had won this race multiple times, this was nothing new to her.



At the starting line, I found myself in awe surrounded by people like Jack Dennes, Marshall Ulrich, Jorge Pacheco, Dean Karnazes (regardless of my opinion of him), and Jamie Donaldson to name a few. Contestants were weighed in as I milled around the start soaking it all in.

The race started and I found myself setting into a system of running 3-5 miles every hour or so and jumping in and out of a van every 10-15 minutes to keep Pam full of fluids and calories.


The heat was oppressive and still hung in the 90s even during the night as Pam and the support crew navigated narrow roads up and down mountain passes. I felt like I was running out of things to talk about while pacing, but my job was to distract and motivate, so I just kept talking. I was operating on little sleep beginning to understand what Pam meant when she said, "I think crewing for these things is more difficult than running them."

Just before the mile 100 mark, we passed Nickademus Hollon, a 19-year old who was attempting to become the youngest Badwater finisher in history. He was in pretty bad shape, but still moving forward (he ended up finishing 18th).

My final task at Badwater was getting Pam up the final section of the ascent to the Mt. Whitney Portal. The ascent was not easy, and I couldn't imagine attempting it after running 120+ miles. Pam was walking most of it, but as we neared the finish, I was able to get her to muster some strength and jog to the finish. I peeled off and let her run through the finish on her own. She was the 7th finisher and second woman across the line.

Being out at Badwater really gave me perspective on how difficult the race actually is. The conditions and terrain are terrible, even by my standards. Yet, being there somehow made me realize that the race isn't as far-fetched as I once believed. The 60-hour cutoff isn't impossible to make. Even as we drove back to Vegas the next day to fly back, the runners still on the course were ahead of the cutoff. I hope to make it back out to Badwater again one day to pace, but at some point, I wouldn't mind toeing the line.

Read my race updates from July of last year here.