Not a Great Race, But a GREAT Race – Our NYC Marathon Weekend

Here’s what I mean by my title…. it was a totally amazing and fabulous and stupendously fun weekend, but as anyone who has run any sort of race, from a neighborhood 5k to a marathon, knows, when the people running in costumes start to pass you, you’re in trouble.

So when Superman and a gal in a tutu blew past me at mile 18, I had to question my race strategy.

But allow me to back up, give you some context, and tell you about the trip. SO many things went right last weekend that it’s really almost unbelievable. No flight delays, gorgeous weather on race day, and Traveling Sister and I both showed up in New York healthy, uninjured, and excited to run on Sunday. We had six friends in town with us, great dinner reservations, and tickets to Hamilton. I mean, really. Pinch me.

We were all at different hotels – Traveling Sister and I stayed at the Park Hyatt on 57th, which I would actually not recommend. I paid for it with points, so I wasn’t about to start complaining, but for a hotel that charges what it does, and has the reputation that it does, it fell way short. It’s gorgeous, but the tub in our room didn’t work, the phones didn’t work, and it’s noisy, even by NY standards.

What I loved there, though, were the people. The staff was unfailingly friendly and helpful, and the bartenders were entertaining and extremely knowledgeable. Even if they did let me order a $75 glass of champagne (ok, four. But two were for Traveling Sister) without notifying me of the price. I must have sounded just a bit too much like I knew what I was doing. Occupational hazard.

But hey, we were in New York and we’re only going to do this race once. And it was damn good champagne 😃

Dinner Friday night was at a fabulous Greek restaurant called Avra, which was even better than my other favorite Greek place in New York, Milos. We had amazing seafood, great Greek wine, and it was a loud, fun, terrific dinner for the eight of us.

Saturday everyone went their separate ways – Traveling Sister and I went to the race expo to pick up our packets, and then had tickets to Hamilton for the matinee. As you know, I saw it in Chicago, but TS had not seen it, and there’s nothing quite like seeing a play on Broadway, is there. It was FABULOUS. Dinner Saturday night was pre-race carbs via sushi at Nobu 57. Then we were off to bed early for our 4 a.m. wake up for the race.

We set three alarms. All unnecessary as I woke up at 3 a.m. anyway.

So here’s the deal with the NYC marathon that’s totally different from any other I’ve ever run or even heard of: they have to get everyone over to Staten Island before the first racers start, and they have to start everyone in waves because 50,000 people run this thing. So that means we were on the Staten Island Ferry at 5:45 but our wave didn’t start until 10:40. It’s a brutal way to start a race, but honestly the ferry ride at sunrise might have been my favorite part.

As an aside, the security for this event was something to behold. There were police and Coast Guard boats around the ferry, bomb sniffing dogs patrolling the start area where we waited, NYPD everywhere, and apparently divers under the bridges and two thousand snipers on rooftops around the city. It’s a shame that that sort of massive presence is necessary, but New York does not mess around with its security and it was comforting.

So we arrived on Staten Island and we waited. For almost four hours.

The weather was chilly, but thank heavens it wasn’t raining. Which it did every other day we were there. Sunday was literally the only sunny day. Can you imagine if we had had to wait that long in the rain?? I know people who have done it, and I’m thrilled not to be one of them.

So we bundled up in old clothes (you toss them in Goodwill bins when your wave is called), brought an old blanket to sit on, snacks to eat, and we waited. Everyone walking around in mismatched old clothes, sweats, bathrobes and the occasional costume has the effect of making the whole place look like a tent city full of crazy people. So you make friends, chat up some of the other crazy people, and the time really does fly by.

When they call your wave, you then walk about a mile to the foot of the Verrazano-Narrows bridge, they blast “New York, New York”, everyone sings along, and you start off at a slow jog as the crowd starts to push on to the bridge. I’m sure it’s a much speedier start in earlier waves, but the 10:40 a.m. wave was a relatively chill group… people filming the start, stopping on the bridge to take photos… it was funny.

I love the signs people hold up at marathons, and I think it’s fun to look for funny ones. The first sign I saw coming off the bridge read “YO! Welcome to Brooklyn”. Much friendlier than the old guy standing on a corner in the Bronx about 20 miles later yelling “Get the hell outta the Bronx! Go back to Manhattan where you came from!” (He was kidding. I think.)

In Brooklyn we were treated to a tour of some great little neighborhoods, lots of music, super fun crowds (lots of drunk brunchers, they were hilarious), and a full on gospel choir at Emmanuel Baptist Church. Brooklyn is also where is made my fatal strategy mistake. I let adrenaline and ego take over and I left TS at mile 7 and took off, trying to make my goal of breaking four hours. But I’ll get back to that in a minute. I was good for another 11 miles.

I’ll tell you what. There are maybe few things on earth as exciting as coming off the Queensboro bridge into Manhattan at mile 16 of this race. The bridge is long, quiet, and lonely, and then as you approach the bottom you start to hear this ROAR… you round the corner, and there is just this wall of people screaming and cheering and it makes you feel like you are possibly the coolest, fastest, best runner ever.

I want to hold on to that feeling for the rest of my life. The pain of that race was totally absolutely completely worth it just for that moment.

I saw two of my friends at mile 17, jumped up and down and waved at them, and then promptly started to cramp at mile 18 because I had been going too fast (for me, anyway. I am not, as a rule, fast. So I knew better. Sigh.) and didn’t drink enough water. I’ll spare you all the details as it’s not really all that interesting, but suffice it to say the thanks to my ego, the last 8 miles were pretty damn slow. Which is how I got passed by Superman and tutu girl.

BUT. Seriously, who cares. Don’t get me wrong, I cared a lot in the moment, and when I figured out that I wasn’t even going to break FIVE hours, I had a full on pity party for a few minutes.

I might have cried.

But then I looked around at the blind runners (there were actually a lot of them with guides at this race), the people running in memory of someone, the older runners who were clearly in way more pain than me and f-ing doing it anyway…. and I remembered to be grateful. How amazing to get to do this AT ALL. To be healthy, to be able to afford to come, to be protected by thousands of police and public service people while we ran, to have friends there cheering us on. I mean really, who the hell did I think I was crying about my pace.

Plus, you know, there’d be wine at the end either way. 🍷

All I had to do was finish.

I saw more friends at mile 20, somehow missed the crew at 24, and finished in just over five hours. And Traveling Sister, younger and wiser with her race strategy, finished cramp-free just a few minutes behind me.

It was starting to get dark and cold by the time I wound my way through the park to get my poncho and meet our friends, so they all immediately wrapped their scarves around me ❤️.

We had our celebratory dinner at Dirty French, an outstanding French restaurant recommended by several foodie friends, and it was just awesome. Lots of food, lots of wine, leg cramps gone, and surrounded by 7 of my favorite people on earth. And did I mention it was also my birthday? Seriously, it was. What a gift that day was. I went to bed so overwhelmingly happy I could have just hugged everyone in New York.

Monday most of the crew left, and TS and I slept in and then made our way south to have lunch at a terrific all-organic, super yummy little cafe called Two Hands. Then we went and got foot massages in Chinatown – I highly recommend this for anyone that runs the NYC marathon. Great call to do that. We rounded it all out with a great dinner and live music at Red Rooster in Harlem. Do yourself a favor and get your ass to that restaurant next time you are in New York, it was such a treat.

On the plane on the way home now. Holy cow what a trip. I’ve never felt so good and then so bad and frustrated and then elated and grateful and just heart-bursting inspired in such a short period of time.

My favorite sign I saw?

“26.2 miles. Because 26.3 would be crazy”. HA!

Thank you, Traveling Sister, for taking me up on the idea to do this.

Thank you, amazing friends, for being there with us and giving us one of the best weekends of our lives.

Wishing you an open heart to take in all the love that’s around you all the time, even when you don’t hear cheering fans. Imagine that the ROAR is just around the corner.

Until next time…. cheers!

Traveling Girl