Rock 'n' Roll Mardi Gras Half Marathon Race Report

Up early, had our bagels, and then walked the mile or so to the starting area. I always love the walk to the start of a big event -- seeing the other runners, in ones and twos, all heading the same direction. Most people are quiet, but a few groups are chatty. Some are in singlets and split shorts, others in full sweats. Everyone has a mixture of determination and nerves on their face -- even if they're trying to hide it.

The morning was crisp and cool - but as the sun rose, it was a gorgeous, perfect blue sky. Later when we were in the corrals, John Bingham called it a "no-excuses day". Lovely and cool, no wind, no rain. Gorgeous.

This was my first opportunity to check our the Brooks VIP Porta Potty -- boy oh boy, how awesome is it to have clean, fresh toilets with lines of, say, 4 or 6 people rather than hold-your-breath stinky porta potties with 40 people in line in front of you?



The Brooks Gurus (including Carlos, above) and many local running store folks staffed the area, offering coffee or Gatorade along with GU Chomp "appetizers" and mints. Very nice -- very Run Happy!

At one point the attendant for the men's toilet asked the line of 8 or 9 men if "anyone just needed number one", telling those folks they could just go in. I looked at the men who remained in line and thought, "Hmm... I feel I know too much about these men."

We chatted with the gurus and the HQ team, nibbled on Chomps, and did a bit of stretching. Then it was time to go to the corrals.

First we went to the front -- spotting Scott Jurek and the 3:30 pace group, resplendent in their Brite Green "I ran with Scott Jurek" Podium Ts. We cheered them off, and then headed back to our corral -- 17 out of 21 -- and climbed the barricade to get in. One overly bright (or overly shadowy?) image later, we started to move up towards the start line.




When we got to the start line, there was a strange pause. Not sure why, but it felt as if we had a lot of time to chat with the Penguin. I wanted to say "We're going on a cruise with you in Alaska!" but then felt like a dork.



And then we were off, into the perfect morning. The first part of the race was a bit "industrial" -- we spent a couple of miles running past warehouses and along train lines. Not super scenic. One of the few things I remember was a band playing "Summer of '69"... and two women chatting:

"Summer of '69" ... that's Bryan Adams, right?"
"Honey, it's a cover band."

We then turned and ran through part of the Garden District -- first running along Prytania, then hairpin turning on to St. Charles. The houses were gorgeous, the roads were broad and flat, and it was beautiful... except that I kept watching my feet because the pavements were a bit broken up.

I haven't said much about the actual RUNNING yet... So far, things were going okay. We were running our usual 5:1s, running at our usual pace, and my knee wasn't hurting too much. The stretch along St. Charles (which makes me think alternately about Anne Rice and "Princess and the Frog"...) was long and pretty shady (and of course very pretty), so it wasn't until we made the turns to go under the big overpass around mile 8 that I thought, "Well, this is starting to suck."

But we carried on. It was a little sad to see the nearly deserted "relay exchange area" -- what had once clearly been full of runners was now a holding pen for only a couple of dozen, all worrying that their relay partner had dropped out, or something.

We approached the French Quarter, running along Decatur past places we had wandered around the day before. One huge highlight: a man with a megaphone calling out runners. Two women in crazy matching mardi gras jester outfits were running along in front of us, and the megaphone guy deadpanned, "Oh, man, how embarassing that both of you showed up in the same outfit." Awesome!

A tiny bit farther along and we came to the other HUGE highlight -- the Brooks Running Dude straddling the course. Gorgeous! Love the Dude! (and the other dude in the picture, of course!)



At the 10-mile point we turned onto Esplanade for a straight shot to the park. I had been getting slower and slower, so when we hit 10 I decided that I needed to walk. The rest of the way. Weirdly enough, we had kept up a fast(ish) pace for the first 10 miles, so if we had even done a little running we would have hit close to our normal time range. But we didn't.

Esplanade is another pretty, shady street lined with big, gorgeous houses. We passed Degas's house, for example. Some cute cafes. And a water stop manned by Hash House Harriers... all wearing red "dresses". Awesome. Every time I see the HHHs I think that I need to find a slow and happy group near here.

As we made our way towards the park, we started watching the full marathoners -- who were still 10 miles from their finish. I didn't envy them AT ALL. But interesting to hear "coaching" in a pace group.

Finally, we entered the park. Again, it was thrilling to be so close to the end. I pitied the full marathoners who still had NINE MILES to go. Yikes! We started running -- especially after someone near us asked a Team in Training coach how far we were from the finish, and he said "it's just on the other side of that building... plus maybe a couple of hundred yards."

Bliss! joy! We started running, passing a surprising number of people, and then grabbed hands and ran across the finish line. Wil got a shout out (lucky!) but other than that I don't remember much.

There was plenty of food and snacks (as usual), though we both thought how much more organized the post-race food at the NYC Marathon was. "Here's your bag." Boom, boom, boom. We ate fruit cups and bagels, had our first Snickers Marathon bar (which tastes just like every other "energy bar", I'm afraid), and chugged down some water.

One of the local bands was playing on the big stage, and there was a nice vibe, but we decided that we would just head back the few miles to the hotel. (Bowling for Soup? Nah.) So we walked back along the course -- down Esplanade, where we whooped and cheered for the remaining runners, telling them that they were less than a mile from the finish, etc. We turned to walk through the French Quarter and decided that we should stop in for a Hurricane at Pat O'Brien's. It wasn't very crowded on the patio yet -- after all, it was before 11am -- but most of the people there were in their running gear, wearing their medals. We had that lovely "Ooh, congratulations!" exchange with several groups of folks, which is always wonderful. I do love the community of runners.

Looking back, it was a fun race. I wasn't anywhere near trained enough, however, and the hurty knee didn't help. So, yes, it was a new PW (other than the self-imposed walking half marathon at Disney World the year we did the Goofy Challenge). But the course was pretty, we saw way more of New Orleans than we would otherwise have done, and it meant we had a great, relaxing remaining week of vacation. So while I plan on running more (running at all... ahem...) before my next half, I still feel good about the Rock 'n' Roll Mardi Gras Half Marathon.

We somehow missed taking a photo of ourselves with our medals, but we did take one of our cocktails...



Result: 2:47:22
Rock 'n' Roll Mardi Gras Half Marathon 2011 Map

New Orleans...

Arrived last night just as the sun was setting -- it's one of those places where it gets really dark, really fast after the sun goes down...

Checked in to our home for the next four nights -- the St. Louis Hotel, in the French Quarter. They're renovating the main lobby, and the temporary reservations desk felt a Very Temporary, but the staff was friendly and we were taken up to our room on the back side of the hotel, away from the gorgeous, candle-lit atrium (hosting noisy events Friday and Saturday night), so that we would have a quieter room.

Room 222 was nice enough -- though I wasn't too thrilled about the "smoking area" immediately outside our window... Until we noticed "it". You know how those big HVAC units in hotel rooms are always noisy? Our room had this percussive rattle -- one I could feel in my chest more than hear, if that makes sense. Well, I thought the rattle was coming from it. Until Wil tried to turn it off. And I realized that the noise was coming from the ceiling... that the light fixture was rattling. As was the picture on the wall. And the lamp on the table.

We walked around and into the courtyard outside our window... and noticed that lucky room 222 was located immediately underneath a massive ventilator -- probably the one for the entire hotel. Wow. We just looked at each other and Wil started packing up. I called the front desk, said that "gosh, we seem to be under a really noisy ventilation system and the whole room is vibrating."

Somehow, I think I'm not the first person to complain about 222... they asked if we minded stairs (nope), and told us that someone would meet us outside room 327 -- "Go out into the courtyard, up the stairs, and along the landing." Five minutes later we were in 327 -- and were amazed at the difference in noise levels. Sure, we could hear the occasional horn from the street (though we were still facing inward), but this room is otherwise nearly silent. What a relief.

(I should quickly point out that the staff was friendly and gracious and didn't push back at all -- and the location is great. And did I mention the gorgeous atrium? Amazing...)

We unpacked, got settled, and then headed out to wander the French Quarter. We drank hurricanes (umm, is it just Kool-Aid and rum?), ate catfish po' boys (don't judge), listened to some jazz, and generally meandered.

This morning we're heading out to the expo and then for some low-key sightseeing. (Natchez steamboat, here we come!) I managed to hyper-extend my left knee on the uneven cobbles last night (BEFORE drinking the hurricane, I should point out!) so work up with a swollen knee... hoping that will feel better by tomorrow :)

Reasons to be Cheerful Part (One, Two,) Three

A freakishly productive Friday launched me into a dizzying good mood... and reminded me that I have THREE reasons to be cheerful and excited about running.

1.

Bloomsday Run, May 1, Spokane, Washington.
The Bloomsday Run is a northwest classic -- the largest run in the region with 50,000+ runners every year. And we've never run it... in previous years we've been out of town, running a different event, or just not fully aware. So this year, the 35th anniversary, I am determined to run it. One of the coolest things about the race is that they have finisher shirts. Not shirts you pick up when you register, or at the start line... but FINISHER shirts. If you see someone wearing a Bloomsday shirt, it means they've finished it. Respect.

2.

Bay to Breakers, May 15, San Francisco, California.
Bay to Breakers is a historic 12K race that runs from San Francisco Bay, up and over the hills, and down to the Pacific Ocean. This year is the 100th running of the race, so the perfect time to run. Historically it's a rollicking party, with costumed runners (including a large contingent of runners in, em, birthday suits...), people pushing elaborate floats, 50,000+ official runners, and general, good-natured mayhem. The organizers are trying very hard to "clean things up this year" -- so we'll see how that goes for them. I still think it will be a very, very fun time.

3.

Great Alaska Maritime Marathon, July 23-30, ms Westerdam
Heard about this running cruise last year, but chose to go to Beck and Steve's wedding instead. So as soon as registration opened for 2011, we signed up. Over the course of the week-long cruise, participants run 26.2 miles, running several different sorts of races over different distances. There's a 2-mile deck run while we're at sea to establish our paces. Then in each port, we run a different distance. I'm absurdly excited about this -- hope I can stay healthy for the whole event!

So, there. Lots of fun things to look forward to. :)

Preparing for a Potential PW

I don't mean to sound negative... or to angle for pity... but I realized a few hours ago that I've got a half marathon in a week and a half and I'm totally not prepared.

Well, okay, I'm mentally prepared for it... by which I mean that I know that I will be able to finish, that there will be laughs along the way, that we'll take some funny pictures, that I'll get bored around mile 12, that we'll get a sparkly medal, and that the vacation will start in earnest 5 minutes after we cross the finish line. There will be points along the course where I struggle -- but in the end it will be fine.

I'm just not physically prepared for it. With only a handful of exceptions, I haven't run since the back-to-back races in November. NOVEMBER! This is my longest "running drought" since I started running. And I don't know why.

I feel as if I've lost my groove, a bit. Again, I don't know why. I just haven't felt like running very much. And -- like a lot of things I feel anxiety about at various times -- the "problem" gets bigger and bigger. I can't just lace up and go for a run around the block -- I must go for a proper run -- but that seems overwhelming. Actually firing up the treadmill downstairs feels like a huge task... and a huge victory when I do it. No, I don't know why.

I've felt underprepared for races before... but looking back over my running logs this is the most unprepared I have ever been.

So... on this first day of the Chinese New Year, this year of the rabbit, I'm going to try and get back on track... a little. No, I'm not going to try to "cram" some preparation in before the race. That's completely counter-productive. A half marathon isn't that sort of test. But I'm going to try and resolve to cut myself some slack, to focus on the fun of running a race again, and to pick things up afterwards. If I get a PW -- that's Potential Worst, btw -- I'll chalk it up to experience. If I run within my usual 5-minute range, I'll be ecstatic. And when we get back from our road trip, I'll start running again. No big deal... just neighborhood runs for a while. It will be fine.

Kung hei fat choy!

2010 wrap-up

What a strange year. I went from working at a job I hated (and a boss who was evil incarnate) to working for a company I love. I went from running 500 miles and a couple of races to running 450 miles and 10 races. Weird!

This year should have been a high mileage year -- between the two marathons and the nine half marathons, you'd think I would have run lots of miles. But somehow I didn't -- despite all the events, I actually ran fewer miles this year than last year. Of course, the fact that I didn't run A STEP between the Seattle half on 11/28 and the end of the year certainly helped that...

That said, it was a great year. I enjoyed the races I ran -- even the soaking wet "Scenic" half in Sand Point. And we survived a Goofy Challenge. (In fact, we've been feeling a little bit mopey that we're not on our way to Florida in a week or so!)

So 2011....

I would like to run at least 500 miles this year. I would also like to keep running half marathons -- get a few more states under my shoes. I know we'll run a half in Alaska, but perhaps also Louisiana, Montana, Nevada... and??? Then, of course, there's the "fun" goal. I want to run fun races -- Bloomsday, Bay to Breakers, BBFR... just to remember the fun of running.




'

Seattle Half Marathon Report, 11-28-10

Wasn't sure what to expect from the Seattle Half Marathon -- would I see anyone I knew? Would the weather hold? Would I finish at all? But I had a little breakfast and drove to lower Queen Anne in the dark. Got lucky -- found street parking just a couple of blocks from the Seattle Center, and walked towards the start.

Of course, upon getting out of the car I realized the following: 1. I had forgotten my sunglasses, 2. I had forgotten my rain shell. Oh well. So much for being prepared...

Got to the starting line with only 15 minutes to spare -- kinda awesome -- just in time to hear the national anthem sung and watch the marathon walkers head out. It was difficult to hear because one of the speakers cut out, but after the walkers left, a bunch of us climbed over the barriers and into the starting chute. The start was on 5th, at a point where there's a big foliage median, so most people just stuck on the near side. That seemed silly, so I and a handful of others climbed carefully through the bushes and onto the opposite side of the street. There I lounged in relative comfort, peeling off layers of "disposable" warm clothing and watching people on the other side crammed together. Very, very weird.

A few minutes more and a different patriotic song was sung for good measure, and the gun fired. Guess it's time to start running... Moved forward, started my watch, and took off down 5th Avenue.

The road was surprisingly uncrowded -- in part because people hadn't really spread out the width of the road -- and completely devoid of spectators. EMPTY. It was eerie -- felt a bit like a low-budget horror film, with everyone running down a city street away from some monster.

We ran up to the crest of 5th and then down down down through the International District and on to the I-90 bus lanes. Right before the lane something really odd happened. About 50 feet ahead of me a man suddenly fell. He got up, shaken, and kept running. The minute he was up, someone else fell in almost the same spot. Again, she recovered, got up, and then another person fell. It was if a poltergeist was sitting there tripping people. Kinda funny... even if I did approach the area thinking "Oh, please, don't pick on me..."

Ran out and into the dreaded tunnel -- much more pleasant without a shrieking band playing, I must admit. Or maybe just more pleasant because it happened to be the beginning of the race, rather than the end!

At the end of the tunnel we halfers turned down the windy little path and onto Lake Washington Boulevard, while the fullers ran an out and back on the bridge, and then an out and back around Seward Park. I liked the pleasant run along the boulevard, noticing that the big portable storage pods had blossomed into water stops. It was also nice to run along the same route for a while -- made me feel good and confident for a few miles.

After Leschi we continued on, passing the Ghost turnaround and starting to head up the hill. Just after the sharp turn up Galer (oof. hill.), some charming ladies were handing out tiny Dixie cups of beer. Who am I to turn down a sip of simple carbohydrates? Was surprised to find that the beer actually tasted good. Or maybe I was just relieved after too many cups of Gatorade...

Another turn, another hill -- this one Madison. I felt strangely turned around -- not realizing until we had headed back down and into Madison Valley where we were. We turned into the Arboretum for the pleasantest stretch of the course -- lovely winding streets, glorious trees, and autumn leaves.

It was about this point that I first ran into "the mom". The first thing I noticed was her "Ironman Idaho Finisher" shirt. Hey, you finish an Ironman, you should wear the gear. Heck, wear your freakin' medal. I'm all over it. Then I noticed that she was running with a little girl... like, 10? She was also running with a teenage boy. At first I was totally impressed -- the little girl was still running strong. But we spent the next mile or so near each other and I heard them talking. I don't want to badmouth anyone's parenting skills, etc. etc., but wow. I guess everyone has seen or heard of stage moms, and overzealous parents in the bleachers at little league games, so why does it surprise me that the same thing exists in running? But hearing a child say "Oh, mile 9, that means we still have 4 to go...", and having the mom reply, "Just stop thinking about it. It's not that far, and we're not going fast." I hope the little girl continues to want to run and to enjoy running despite it all.

Anyway, was relieved to leave them behind and continue on. Again, the course was fantastic -- all autumn leaves and quiet. Then suddenly we popped out the other side and ran toward a the Roanoke freeway overpass.

I started to feel pretty beat at this point. Not exhausted, but pretty close to empty. It was strange to see the Space Needle so far away still. But I plodded along, noting with pleasure that those concrete sound barriers next to the freeway work remarkably well...

Then down under the freeway again, past the former site of the leaning townhouse (anyone else remember that?) and then back across I-5 again. That suddenly made it feel as if we were almost done, so I got a spring in my step again. We turned down toward the Center, and over onto Mercer for that last down and up underpass. Lots of honking cars, which was nice. (Finally some support!) Then another couple of blocks up Mercer and over into the stadium. Fun to finish on the field turf. I suddenly realized I had been pretty much coasting for the last mile and decided to try to finish a little stronger -- clearly I had left something in the tank. Finished in 2:42:21 -- not my slowest, but one of my slowest. Still, it was faster than my time for the Ghost, so I'd achieved the basic goal.

After crossing the line I got my medal (very pretty brushed silvery thing), gave up my timing anklet (weird!), and picked up a space blanket from a pile. Wasn't quite sure where to go next -- but joined the zombie throng heading toward the exhibition hall. Out of the corner of my eye I saw some bottles of water, so went over and grabbed one, figuring that the rest of the water would be in the much touted "recovery area".

Made my way into the crowded, noisy hall, and felt immediately overwhelmed. Lots of people, lots of lines, but no apparent food or drink. No, that's not true -- I saw some fruit cups surrounded by a throng. Weird. Part of the problem was that the food and drink were in the same building as the reunion area -- making it nearly impossible to navigate. I considered joining a line in case it led to a bagel or a banana, but then realized I was a 5-minute walk from the car and a 10-minute drive from home. So I wove through the crowd and out the door and was soon home.

Overall the race was nice, though I missed the crowds of NYC and the music of RnR. But the course was pretty, the hills were manageable, and the scene in general was laid back. But the finish line was chaotic, the post-race food and water situation was a nightmare, and I doubt I'll run it again. Still, my main goal was to finish a double and move up to 4 Moon status in the Half Fanatics. Result!


Marathon Course Map

Seattle Ghost Half Marathon Race Report, 11-27-10

We had that snow just before Thanksgiving, and it wasn't really until Thursday afternoon when our street felt safe enough to drive on... so I had been wondering if I would be able to get to my races -- let alone complete them. But on Friday night I laid out my running gear, set an alarm, and decided to stop worrying.

My race plan was simple -- meet a few of my fellow fanatics, finish the race, and save my legs for Sunday.

Arrived in the area at about 7:35 for an 8am start. Since it was bitterly cold, I decided to just wait in my car. At about 7:45 I headed across the street to the park and joined the queue of folks checking in -- and registering. Got my number -- 22 -- and said how nice it was to race my age. Snort.

We huddled around for a while -- chatting with other runners, a few fanatics, and eyeing the posse of maniacs, many (most?) of whom had already run two marathons in two days and were hungry for more. I think we had about 200 - 250 folks at the start.

The race director (Chuck? Scott?) explained the course -- and the turnaround at the far end, and then we were off. I settled in with a group of people who were moving about my pace, slow and steady. We were quite bunched up, but the path was pretty wide and even so it wasn't any trouble. We ran down to Seward Park and then around the edge before heading back toward the start line. At some point on the way to the park a man pushing a double-wide running stroller sped past us. I overheard a woman near me say "Well, that's sure a slice of humble pie!" and we all laughed.

Then the course pretty much followed the lake all the way -- moving up the hill and back down to Leschi, of course. There was an aid station at mile 9 (?) near Leschi, which had great treats. Who doesn't love pretzels and gummi bears in the middle of a run?

I had been feeling pretty good at this point -- running my standard 5:1s, walking the two small hills, and otherwise just humming along. The morning was cold but otherwise okay -- in fact, I started the race wearing a warm vest but left it back at the start when we passed through. I had passed a few people on the way out, most notably a group of teenagers who showed up that morning with their dads, sure that if their dads could run a marathon, they could knock one out too. Awesome!

Got to the turnaround and forced myself to follow my race plan -- even though it made my ego a little sad. It was hard to let people run past me -- not that I'm competitive, really, but I sorta wanted to say "I'm saving my legs for tomorrow!" Which is absurd, because people pass me all the time. ;)

But the sky had brightened, I had good tunes on my iPod, so I just enjoyed a brisk walk back to the starting line.... almost.

See, when I got about half a mile from the finish, I saw the group of teenagers, strung out in a straggly line heading in. I had passed them early on in the race, but they must have passed me at some point during my walk (though I didn't see them). Somehow I had caught back up with them, and it was clear that they were hurting. (And also apparent that they would be doing the half instead of the full...). I decided to test my legs a bit, and started to run again. And ended up reeling them in one at a time. So absurdly satisfying... even if it was a bit childish. (That said, when they came close to being "chicked" by three women wearing tutus, the boys sprinted in as best they could as well...)

After the race a few of us stood around chatting and nibbling on crackers and treats at the finish line... until we were told that the REAL post-race food was up in the parking lot. A very impressive spread -- chicken noodle soup, vegetarian chili, hot dogs, sodas, juice, beer, and plenty of other treats. But I knew I had a lunch date with Wil so I had a soda, some pretzels, and headed home.

The Ghost was fun -- and if I was looking for a supported run around that time of year, I'd choose it over the Seattle Half... a race with 250 folks is just so much more civilized! (Even if I did occasionally worry if I would come in last...) I do wish that there had been shirts, or medals, but the race helps the RD with a charitable donation, so I'm all for that.

Completing the Ghost marked my 8th half marathon of the year -- bumping me up from one moon to two in my fanatics standings... so far, so good!

The double -- yes, I know what you're thinking...

So I got a little nutty. A couple of months ago on the Half Fanatics bulletin board someone posted the a message with the headline "THANKSGIVING WEEKEND QUAD IN SEATTLE!!!"

It was like a car wreck -- I couldn't NOT read it. And then start daydreaming about it. Four half marathons in four days? Insane! But interesting!

Fortunately, probably, the race director of the third race decided not to offer a half marathon option (despite being a loop course...) -- so I put it from my mind.

But I did keep thinking about doing a double: the Ghost of Seattle on Saturday, and the Seattle Half on Sunday.

Would I be ready to run 13.1 3 weeks after the NYC Marathon? And another 13.1 the day after that? I wasn't sure. So I printed out the application for the Ghost, and filled out the application for the Seattle Half, and pondered.

We came home from NYC and I felt okay within a few days... so I decided to just go for it. Why not?

Registered on the last possible day for the Seattle Half... the day after I sent in my check for the Ghost. Crazy...

Thanksgiving

Snowstorm on Monday -- and the resulting 4+ hour commute -- made me extra glad for the snow day on Tuesday... and hesitant to drive into the office on Wednesday. More snow Wednesday night meant I wasn't super keen on braving the roads for our family get together for Thanksgiving / Charley's birthday. Instead, we hunkered down, watched Glee, and had a little feast of our own. Very cozy.

Busy weekend coming up -- the Ghost of Seattle Half on Saturday morning, and the Seattle Half on Sunday. These races are really just aimed at checking boxes -- the Ghost will be my 8th half marathon of the year, which would earn me my second moon. But if I finish both races, I'll be promoted to 4 moons. Not fast, just quietly moving along. Weather permitting, of course...

NYC Marathon Race Report

We had unfortunately been assigned to the "Green" course.... which meant that we didn't get to run across the top of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge... you know, the famous picture of the masses of runners streaming across it? Well, we were on the lower deck. Bummer.

So we started the race with the biggest hill of the race -- up up up to the apex of the big bridge. I remembered sailing under it on the QE2 years ago, so I knew how high it must have been. As it was just past the start, things were pretty crowded so we just kept moving. The wind at that altitude was very strong, too -- making the bridge the single coldest point of the race. We may have actually been better off on the lower deck... then again, we didn't have the sunshine.

But soon we were on the downhill slope, and saying farewell to Staten Island... how nice to get one borough completed so quickly! On into Brooklyn, where we ran on an expressway for a while, before winding our way up to 4th avenue. The whole way we were greeted by cheering crowds, but 4th avenue was special. Tons of kids -- which led to lots and lots of high-fiving -- and plenty of music and dancing. By this point I was warm and loose and feeling surprisingly good for not having run a step in 4 weeks.

At one point we met up with a woman called Lizzie, visiting from Ireland to run her tenth NYC Marathon. We chatted with her for a while and she asked if she could run with us because she wanted to finish in 5:30. Of course, we had no idea what we were planning on -- and apparently at that point were well ahead of a 5:30 pace -- so we went our separate ways. On we went, at one point passing a band that looked suspiciously like Blues Traveler (who were also playing a show that night). But who knows?

I will say that, while there were lots of bands along the route, there weren't nearly as many as along a Rock 'n' Roll marathon route. Then again, there were exponentially more fans, so what's more important?

Finally, at mile 8 all three courses blended and we ran as one. Again, felt really good here. We were passing people and being passed, but for the most part moving slightly faster than the people around us. We turned on Lafayette and passed several houses with parties and barbecues in their front yards. It was clear that people treated the race as a huge rolling block party -- as an event to be celebrated rather than an annoyance to be tolerated. Well, until we turned into Williamsburg, a traditionally Hasidic neighborhood that has requested that the race be routed around them. So it was pretty quiet through there -- though we did see a couple of young mothers with their children sitting on stoops, smiling shyly.

Then a couple more turns and we were headed to the Pulaski bridge, crossing into Queens. We had spent much of Brooklyn running near the Blues Brothers, and stopped to snap photos of them (and they of us) as we crossed the bridge with the gorgeous Manhattan skyline in the distance. We crossed the halfway point in 2:36, a completely acceptable half marathon time for us, and I still felt remarkably good.

To be frank, I don't have a lot of memories of Queens, good or bad. I seem to recall passing streets lined with shops (rather than residential streets), but perhaps that was actually in Brooklyn. Who knows?!? I also remember sighting "TNT Elvis" -- a guy who raises money for Team in Training and runs in an Elvis jumpsuit. (Duh, right? What else would TNT Elvis wear?) The nicest touch is that the sequins are all purple and green. Sweet. We just kept running and running, and suddenly headed onto the Queensboro bridge. Three boroughs down, two to go.

Queensboro was a steep hill up as well -- we weren't the only ones who decided just to walk the whole way up. (It's always a bit amusing to pass people "running" while you're walking up a hill.) I laughed because it reminded me of scenes from Grand Theft Auto 3 Liberty City. Except the police weren't chasing us. Which is a good thing, because it would have been difficult to elude them.

We came down the super-steep bridge ramp and hit Manhattan for the first time. A roar came off the crowd, someone shouted "Welcome to Manhattan! Three down, two to go!" and we all whooped. One woman -- a short but broad woman built a tiny bit like Sponge Bob -- who we had been with since Brooklyn (seriously), with "Moskie" or something like that on her shirt, snarled, "Yeah, but it's not First Avenue yet."

Okay, another hundred feet or so and we turned on to First Avenue. (Happy now, Moskie?)

I had always been told that running down First Avenue in Manhattan is a huge thrill -- that the screaming crowds are 6 or 7 deep for blocks and blocks. But I figured that while that might be true for the frontrunners -- or even the medium runners -- that it wouldn't be true for us slow but steady types. Boy, was I wrong. The wall of sound that came off the people was amazing -- people packed up against the barricades on both sides of the street, just shouting and cheering. It completely perked me up.
That said, First Avenue stretched on and on and on...but at least it felt mainly like a long, slow downhill slide to the Bronx.

Everyone had always said that the Bronx was the hardest part -- not because of the terrain, or the roads, but just the placement of the course. You leave Manhattan and cross into the Bronx just before mile 20, and cross back into Manhattan just before mile 21. Mile 20 is, for many runners, The Wall. The NYRR had done well -- placing a gel stop around mile 17 or 18 so that everyone got some fuel to help them "smash the wall". And the Bronx had done extremely well, calling themselves "the Boogie-Down Bronx" and having what seemed like more music and dancers along their mile than along any other spot. I barely remember the Bronx -- other than seeing the dancers, doing the hand motions to some song as we headed out of the borough, and of course seeing my new favorite race sign:

YOUR FEET HURT BECAUSE U R KICKING SO MUCH ASS

We crossed back into Manhattan in Harlem -- and were greeted by gospel choirs, lots of friendly faces, and little old ladies handing out paper towels. I think it all caught up to me right around this point. I nearly tripped over one of those cord-cover things... which made me realize I wasn't picking up my feet at all. That said, I knew that with under 5 miles to go, I would finish, so it wasn't as if I was worried... I was just tired.

A few turns to skirt a park and we started heading up 5th Avenue. My fatigue had really hit me at this point. And the crowds were certainly thinner as we approached the park. And did I mention that it's essentially one long hill? I had slowly reduced our pace from our standard 5:1s to 3:1s and now 2:1s... but by the time we hit the last few blocks before the park I was pretty much just walking. Again, I was tired, but I knew I would finish, so I was okay. Not sure if that makes sense... but it's how I felt.

We turned in to Central Park near the reservoir and ran on the downhills and walked on the uphills. Wil was awesome, as usual, and kept me moving -- and smiling -- the whole way. We passed the 40 km marker... and shortly thereafter the 25 mile marker, and felt buoyed by them. Not buoyed enough to run, mind you, but happy.

We left the park for the little stretch along Central Park South and headed past some real troopers -- I mean, those people just have been there for hours. We also were joined by a man wearing a Spider-Man outfit at this point, oddly enough.

Then the turn at Columbus Circle and back into the park. Usually at the end of a race you see the "13 mile" or the "26 mile" mark and, no matter how bad you feel, you can pick yourself up for a "sprint" to the finish. I always think back to the guy at my first triathlon -- a sub-elite so much faster than me that he was returning from his bike leg before I even got on my bike... and was packing up when I was going out for my run. He looked at me and said, "Leave nothing in the tank" -- which Wil and I always say to each other as we hold hands and run across the line.

In New York, however, the 26 mile marker came on a curve -- and the finish line was invisible. While I tried to do the math in my exhausted head ("Point two of a mile... how long is that?!?") I couldn't make myself run. I think the tank was pretty much empty. But a few more steps and we could see the finish line -- three chutes wide. I grabbed Wil's hand and ran as fast as my tired legs could carry me. (Not very fast.)

I remember bursting into tears -- happy tears, but tears -- and hugging and kissing Wil. I also remember the volunteer with the medals beckoning us to come to him, and handing Wil a medal to place on me, and then handing me one to place on Wil. Very sweet. (This makes me tear up even now...)

Then I remember space blankets -- glorious mylar heat sheets -- which we all tied on in a variety of styles. Then we were handed bags of food -- none of this picking slowly through boxes of bagels. Nope -- here's your bag of food, now move along. Perfectly efficient!

We had to trudge a very long way, and people were moving very very slowly. It was also getting cold very quickly.

See, between the time change and the late start, one of my goals (besides just finishing) was to finish before sunset. We managed that, but it took us so long to get out of the park, that by the time we emerged into the street it was dark and very cold.

One really nice post-race story -- Wil overheard a man ask a woman if he could borrow her phone. She hesitated and then said no... but then felt bad and explained that it's because she was from New Zealand, and it was one thing to pay international roaming to call her mom, but another to give the phone to a stranger. Wil volunteered his phone, and the man made a quick call. We asked him how his race went, and he said he'd been a bit slower than he had hoped -- and that he had gotten separated from his girlfriend, but that they had made arrangements to meet and he was just confirming.

We told him congratulations, and he said something about we didn't know how appropriate that was. We hesitated -- was he a heart-transplant-recipient? An amputee? A cancer survivor? He saw our hesitation and said, "Oh, well, I was hoping to finish with my girlfriend and propose at the finish line." Awww. We wished him all the best, and went our separate ways.

On the way back to the apartment we passed some young Brits, who said, "How are you walking normally?!?" Ah, practice. Just practice.

We went home, had showers, and headed out for our well-earned massages. Fantastic day!

When I think about the race I'll always remember the sound of the crowd, the amazing numbers of cups at the giant water stops, running in a huge group, and the feeling that you were in a city that LOVED the marathon. I don't expect to run the race again-- heck, I don't expect to run another full marathon! -- but I am thrilled to have run what has to be one of the world's greatest races.

For posterity (or as least as long as the link is live...), here's the course map of the 2011 NYC Marathon.