---- About this story----
For complete information about the Marathon and this year's winners, please visit the New York Roadrunners site at http://www.nyrr.org/. You may consider entering the 2008 race. If you missed Part I and II of Jerry's story Marathon Sunday - From a Runner's Diary, please go to http://www.postcardsfromnewyork.com/.
******************************************
Dear Postcard from New York Reader,
A sea of people organized by ability, pressed together body to body, pushed forward toward the starting line on the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. Some elected official, I think it was the mayor of New York, gave a pep speech. No one really listened; we anxiously waited for the moment when one of the celebrities said “runners ready, the race begins.”
It takes about ten minutes before you are no longer part of the crushing wall of humanity surging forward. You are now on your own and the silence is broken only by the sound of heavy breathing, feet pounding the pavement, and occasionally words of encouragement from other runners. The sound of breathing and feet pounding on the pavement begins to have a rhythm of its own.
Once over the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge you are in Brooklyn. Suddenly the air is full of excitement. People line the sidewalks to cheer us on. Men are playing music on the tops of garbage cans, solitary garbage cans are on fire, and people run in the streets to give you hi-fives. The next borough is Queens. Here, the noise and people are fewer. You can take water from the fluid stations at every mile; Boredom comes and goes.
The steady beat of pounding feet on the pavement can still be heard. I cannot remember my thoughts during the race. My mind was fighting fatigue and telling me to continue staying completely in the moment. From time to time I would think, "will this never end?" When we finally reach the Queensboro Bridge, the thought comes to me, "how wonderful is this." Never again will I be able to run inside the bridges of New York.
There is something magical about running over a bridge with a crowd of other runners, the pounding of the feet, the water below and the sight of the next borough ahead. The marathon is now in Manhattan on the Upper-East Side. There is almost complete silence. Nowhere are there people cheering or offering water to drink. This was true in the Los Angeles marathon as well. The people in the wealthy sections of cities never come out to see the runners, while those in the less well-to-do sections support the runners 100%.
Unfortunately, the Upper-East Side is where runners hit "the wall," as we approach the seventeen or eighteen mile. Your mind and body give out and you have to push really hard to keep going. Many runners stop at this point. The New York Runners Club provides sponges soaked with water to soften the fatigue. If one makes it through this milestone, you can finish the race. The remaining runners continue across the Triborough Bridge into the Bronx. Here, the enthusiasm and encouragement from the people, once again, spur us on.
The run through the Bronx is short but invigorating. I know that I have passed the wall and will finish the race, "come hell or high water.'' We cross the final bridge, the Willis Avenue Bridge into Harlem. Here, the people embrace the runners with heart as they run into the street to offer candy, pieces of oranges, joy and love. The runners who have survived are now on the home stretch.
Suddenly one is at the finish line. Everything happens so fast. Pictures are taken of you crossing the finish line; A medal was placed around my neck and I was wrapped in a HeatSheet. I felt numb both mentally and physically, but was also filled with feelings of accomplishment and joy. To top it off, I finished the marathon in four hours and twenty minutes! This became my time at the three other marathons that I ran in later in the year. Once again, I ran every step; I never walked.
I started walking back to 92nd and Broadway. My mind was still blank but I was proud of myself. I finished the New York Marathon and that will always be something that can never be taken from me. Back at the apartment, my friends were going out for the evening. I think this was one of the few times that I actually saw them during my entire time in New York.
Slowly I removed my running clothes, took a shower and dressed to go to dinner. This seemed to take hours. My mind was blank; I couldn’t digest what I had accomplished. I was back in the moment, and it was euphoric!
I found an Italian restaurant, ate as many carbohydrates as I could while staring into space, oblivious to the people around me. By the time I left the restaurant, I felt pains in a few new places. Slowly I climbed the steps to the second floor apartment, fell into bed and almost immediately went to sleep. But not before I took one last look at my medal, put it around my neck and looked in the mirror with a big smile on my face.
Jerry Petrasek
For Postcards from New York
Photo courtesy of the New York Road Runners Club
No comments:
Post a Comment