Cynthia Runs A Marathon

4/23/2020

The New York City Marathon was everything I wanted it to be and more. The feelings and memories of the day were so overwhelming that even though I wanted to write about it immediately afterward so that I wouldn’t miss any details, I was trying to soak it all in and process it all in a way that I could tell a story like the old lady in the Titanic movie.

I had a feeling that I would have a better opportunity to write about the main event weeks later, as if I knew there would be a time of forced reflection and gratitude. As I sit here in quarantine during a global pandemic, I’m stuck in my head all day long and the only thing distracting me from writing is myself. So, once upon a time, I ran a marathon.

I was so nervous and excited the day before the race. I had wondered why my program called for a 30 minute “shakeout” run the day before a major fitness feat until I ran the 4 miles and realized it really helped with some of my jitters. It was an easy run to get my mind in the game and expel enough energy to help me at least attempt to sleep that night. I took an Epsom salt bath and watched the Disney movie Coco on my phone since the Day of the Dead (Día de los Muertos) was over the weekend and one of the songs I really liked was on my marathon playlist. I hadn’t seen the movie before, and since I was honoring my late brother, Charlie, the next day I felt a little bit emotional (and I never cry during movies, no matter how sad they are). After my bath, I talked to my parents on the phone about the game plan of where to spectate and find me at the finish line. Friends texted me their good luck wishes hours before my bedtime so as not to disturb my sleep.

Feeling great after my shakeout run 🏃‍♀️

I set out everything I needed for the morning and went through my mental and paper checklists, adding anything else from my mind to the paper when I remembered. Lucky thong, favorite sports bra, most comfy and least-pilled cotton running socks...check. Star Spangled leggings, custom “Charlie” tank top with bib number, black arm sleeves, Marines baseball cap, sneakers...check. Styled my long red hair in French braid pigtails, set 5 different alarms, reserved an Uber for 4:30am...check. Water bottles filled with Nuun (electrolyte solution), fanny pack filled with Honey Stinger waffles and gels, baby wipes and toilet paper, portable chargers, breakfast bananas...check. The only things I really needed to remember to do in the morning was to hydrate with Nuun first thing, put sunscreen on, put a little bit of eye makeup on for the camera, wrap my feet’s hot spots with anti-friction tape, and use the bathroom before my Uber would pick me up.

I woke up to my radio alarm (the first one I set) a little bit groggy and tempted to just roll over when I realized TODAY. WAS. THE. DAY. I practically jumped out of bed and started sipping Nuun to get more electrolytes in me right away, which would keep the sodium balance in my body throughout the race. I slathered on the same Thinksport zinc sunscreen I’d been using all summer as I did not want my skin’s complaint of sunburn to ruin my experience. I slowly ate a banana even though I wasn’t craving food yet, then went to the bathroom in hopes of an epic poop to empty out before the porta potty scenario. No dice that time, so I continued on with applying anti-chafe stick all over my body to avoid friction hot spots; I put it around every strap on my bra, on my thighs where my pocket holds my phone, the top of my leggings, etc. I got dressed in my marathon outfit and my old “bum” sweatshirt and sweatpants attire, made sure I had my keys, wallet, phone, earbuds, and my Start Village bag full of snacks, and headed downstairs for my Uber driver.

Since I was traveling from Hoboken instead of the city, I chose to use the free shuttle buses that would drive runners from Metlife Stadium to the Start Village on Staten Island. It seemed like a better option for me since I knew that most of the tourists would be staying in the city and there would be no traffic so early in the morning. The NJ transportation buses were going to leave for the marathon starting line on a rolling basis starting at 5:00 am, and I wanted to be on one of the first just for peace of mind. My Uber driver was slightly lost in the large stadium parking lot, but I was able to see the buses from another parking lot and directed him toward them. Then, the bus got a little bit lost and had to take a few exits to head in the right direction, making me wonder if my queasiness was from the moving vehicle, the fact that I was chilly, or my nerves that I was about to run a MARATHON. I chatted with the woman sitting next to me for the ride, who was also about to run her first marathon.

Considering it was before 6 a.m. on Daylight Saving Time morning, the Start Village was pitch black; as soon as we got off the bus, police officers checked our bags and used wands to make sure nobody had anything harmful attached to them. I walked along in the dark with my bus buddy and found some porta potties. I thought the girl was going to find me when she got out, but I couldn’t find her after a few minutes so I walked toward my Orange Village where my corrals would line up. “Orange” just refers to one of the three colors used to determine which part of the Verrazzano Bridge the participant would start on, which keeps order among the more than 50,000 participants.

The Orange Start Village, with the bridge in the background, reminded me of a carnival or a Relay For Life overnight event; there were sponsored tents that provided participants with food and beverages during the wait. I went to the Dunkin tent to get my souvenir pink-and-orange beanie hat and poured my first (tiny) cup of coffee to warm up, grabbed free Honey Stinger waffles, a bagel, a banana, and walked around to try and find a good spot to sit on the souvenir bleacher seat I brought to rest my legs and keep my bottom dry from the morning frost. I sat near a woman that looked to be about my age sitting by herself and we started chatting. She came all the way from Russia with her husband to race NYCM. Eventually an older man that appeared to be about my dad’s age sat with us and we talked about training and, because the guy had run it before, some tips for the course. Our little makeshift group took turns grabbing food and more coffee since we were all Wave 2 and still had about three more hours until we had to line up.

All bundled up in my throwaway sweats, free Biofreeze poncho, and Dunkin hat waiting to be called to the start!

Eventually I had to get up and get in line for the porta potties since the lines were starting to get long in my Start Village. It was hard to hear the National Anthem being sung from the start line nearly a mile away, but there was no doubt when the Elites and Wheelchair divisions started after the cannon blast. I watched the tiny specs of really fast professional runners on the upper level of the Verrazano Bridge seemingly sprint ahead. I gulped, and a fresh new wave of nerves and excitement crept up. Some of the water I drank earlier not only went to my bladder, but also started to fill the tear ducts in my eyes uncomfortably.

As soon as I was done with the toilet, I got right back in line knowing that I’d have to go again before my wave had to line up. I was trying to get everything out so I wouldn’t waste time during the race for an emergency. When I was done with that round, I had to head toward my corral.

I stood to the side of one of hundreds of Goodwill bins and stripped off my smelly old moth-eaten bum sweats and offered my donation. You don’t want to run with extra clothes on since your body heats up quickly, that’s why you wear “throwaway” clothes at the start. It was still a little chilly out as I placed my carbohydrate fuel and water bottles in their respective places in my pack and pants pockets. I hated carrying so much extra stuff (making my thighs look like they had serious saddle bags), but these gels would be consumed along the way and I anticipated having nothing left by the end.

Waiting in the Orange Start Village as the sun rises on Marathon Day 2019

I felt very lost among the 50,000 people camping out like at a music festival, so I had to ask many different volunteers where to go and follow other people with my “Wave 2 Orange” bibs. Unlike other NYRR events, they were being very strict on letting people into the corral before the wave closed, so I rushed in there even though I probably had a few minutes. I noticed I was in another line for the last porta potties for the next 3 miles, so I figured if I had time I would go once more. Everyone started moving toward the bridge and I was one of the last people in my section to use the toilet, so when I got out I was speedwalking as fast as I could to get to the rest of the group. I was so anxious about missing my start and indirectly letting my friends down by being late that I had to focus on my breathing when herded onto the exit ramp of the westbound lanes of the Verrazzano bridge.

I heard people around me talking excitedly with accents indicating they were from Australia, France, and Germany. I wasn’t running this event with a group, so my excitement and nerves were bottling up inside me. I was trying to record the National Anthem and scenery around me, but my phone failed to recognize the touch of my cold fingers. The waterworks were welling up in my eyes, and instead of letting tears of joy dehydrate me, I channeled my focus, ready to be a part of New York City’s biggest party. The hard part was over, and now it was all mental.

The online forums I followed said that satellite tracking apps would take awhile to work during the marathon because of the congested volume of the event. I started my MapMyRun app before my bib chip crossed the start line and it seemed to be off about a quarter mile. Even though there would be mile markers at every mile and every major kilometer, the time displayed was based on the Elite heat (which started more than an hour before my wave), so it would be hard to do the math when you’re several miles into the race. I also wanted my MapMyRun app to count the 100th run I did for the year 2019 and make it epic.

The first two miles of the NYC Marathon cover the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, and I lucked out in getting the Orange Wave, which runs on the upper level. Some would argue it’s a tougher part of the bridge to race because it has a higher incline and an extra turn to exit the bridge, but because I trained on much tougher hills throughout the summer this felt easy. I loved heading east on the westbound lanes to get the views of the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island to my left. Between my fanny pack bouncing around and loosening at an inopportune time while also trying to stay on pace and the helicopter hovering next to me on the bridge, I couldn’t help but feel like I was running from the law. I was supposed to take my time on the Verrazano since it was my warmup and the first incline I would encounter on the course. Some people almost sprinted out the gates and I wondered if they knew this was a marathon race, not a 400-meter dash. I tried to take a few quick selfies on the bridge before we would encounter the crowds in Brooklyn.

Staten Island was the first borough, and we entered Brooklyn at Mile 3 and the start of the endless line of spectators. I was amazed how many men needed to take a leak after the bridge. Though I didn’t have to go, I was still jealous how convenient it was for the male anatomy to include a garden hose that they could just whip out without having to take all their clothes off in the middle of a race. The cops stationed right next to that particular wall just kind of brushed it off knowing they can’t arrest these guys for public urination. Must be nice to be a man!

The course went through the small enthusiastic communities in Bay Ridge and headed north on 4th Avenue. There were a lot of young families with kids cheering on anybody who looked like they would give them a high five. I felt my nose running a little bit, so as much as I wanted to power up with high fives along the course, I was going to be sending snot rockets along the way and didn’t need to get anyone sick or vice versa.

There were small bands, local wannabe DJs, and high school drumlines along the route as people cheered for strangers and those they came to watch. I had my own music on low, but probably didn’t even need it for Brooklyn; it was as loud as New Years’ Eve in Times Square and I couldn’t hear my playlist even if I put the volume up all the way.

The Orange, Green, and Blue Corrals ran on separate sides of the barricade until they merged around Mile 8, creating a little bit of bottleneck near Flatbush Ave and Atlantic Ave. My corral was on the left side of the road, and my parents planned on seeing me from the right side of the road near where I’d have a view of Brooklyn Academy of Music. I kept a good pace throughout so far and though I wasn’t going at light speed, it was tough to look out among such huge crowds for my parents. I spotted my mom through the corner of my eye with her big fluffy mane of hair and sunglasses. She was holding her phone, clearly trying to record a video of me, but also making the rookie mistake of waving her arms in the air at the same time while screaming “CYN-THEE-AHHHHHH!” I remembered how loud my mom used to cheer at my soccer games; and my dad joined her cheering. I was too far to give a high five, so I waved and sped up a little bit, having passed my first checkpoint.

Somewhere in Brooklyn, looking and feeling strong on the far right 🏃‍♀️💪

The course then followed up Bedford Ave north to Williamsburg., We lost some of the crowd enthusiasm when we ran through the quiet Hasidic community, but it picked back up closer to Queens. I was feeling good as I reached the half marathon mark on the Pulaski Bridge. Some people were walking at this point because there weren’t any spectators and the much-needed fluid stop provided some respite for those struggling on the course. I finished up one of my Nuun bottles and checked my phone on this bridge because I felt it pinging multiple times throughout the first 13 miles. I saw the previews of messages from my clients, friends, ex-boyfriends, and family wishing me good luck or saying they saw me on the course as I passed through their neighborhoods. I had to ignore those and saw that my friend, Habby, gave me her location to swap Nuun bottles. She wasn’t running it this year, but promised to be an unofficial aid on different spots of the course.

When I got off the Pulaski, I wanted to keep my pace but I also didn’t want to miss the swap. I was going to need more electrolytes within the next hour and I didn’t want to drink the Gatorade at the fluid stops for fear it would mess up my stomach. I ran on the right side next to the sidewalk for what felt like forever until I spotted my other Running Mermaid friends with printed signs of mermaid emojis and handed off my Nuun bottle, expecting Lisa to have the replacement. In my confusion I asked where Habby was and she said that they were separate. I kept going and I found her, taking extra Clif Bloks with me even though I had been sipping on my Honey Stinger gels every 3 miles.

I saw the Ed Koch Queensboro Bridge in sight and felt a new wave of anxiety. So many people on the online forums said they dreaded this bridge because you’re past the halfway point, there are no spectators, and the incline would be rough at that point of the race. I had been grabbing a cup of water at each fluid stop, but this one had a lot more people stopping to get the cup. I grabbed mine and took my time climbing the lower level of the bridge.

It felt oddly silent, with only the sound of footsteps striking the concrete and heavy breathing, but the quiet was much-needed on my end. Many people were slowing down or walking, but I kept chugging along because I felt good. I didn’t want to get cocky though, since I knew I had to put on a show on the other side of the bridge in Manhattan. I used Mile 15 to listen to my playlist, cheer for those who needed encouragement, and meditate. I was more than halfway there. I had no idea what my time was, but it didn’t matter because the first half was the warm-up. My true test was about to begin on the Manhattan and Bronx legs of the race.

The silence gradually had a weird ring to it, and as the bridge declined I heard the famous “Wall of Noise'' described by everyone who had run this course before. The noise hit my eardrums like a Mack truck, and after the tight turns on the exit ramp merged onto 1st Avenue I felt like a celebrity in a ticker tape parade. The Brooklyn crowd had been big and rowdy, but this was something else. The bars along the way were blasting music and the fans were already hammered even though it was barely past noon, giving it a big party vibe where I was the star. I felt some fatigue, but kept a brave face on knowing I had more distance to cover.

My college friends said they were going to catch me around Mile 17 on the left side of 1st Ave, so I stayed on that side for what felt like forever. It was dizzying to search for familiar faces at my speed and with sweat stinging my eyes. We finally caught each other just as I was passing them, so I couldn’t see what they wrote on the signs they had made (which I found out later said things like “The Fastest Mermaid on Land” and “Marist Fox On The Run”). That checkpoint helped me to keep going. My feet were getting a little sore from running for more than 2 hours at this point, but I was far from done.

I kept heading north for what felt like a much longer time than I anticipated. There was a Honey Stinger Gel stand and as I reached out for an extra gel, the sharp foil sliced my finger like a papercut. I tend to pass out from seeing my own blood, so I had to just squeeze my finger and mentally tell myself that today is NOT the day to faint. I kept going, focusing on my breathing.

As I approached the Chiquita banana stand, I almost slipped on banana peels on the ground as if they were put there on purpose in a Mario Kart game to cause harm to other competitors. I narrowly missed wiping out and, while avoiding collision, I missed grabbing a banana piece from one of the costumed volunteers. I was concerned I might have needed to eat one at that point in the race for fuel, since the aid stations are strategically spread out for runners’ success. Luckily, as I’m in some weird heightened state of hyper flow, some guy in Spanish Harlem was unofficially handing out pre-sliced oranges in clear bags. I would never normally take food from strangers like this, but I felt robotic and figured that there was no way the guy would put drugs in it. How would he take advantage of me in the middle of an event with thousands of witnesses? These are the thoughts that go through my head after watching true crime documentaries...

I hated having my hands full and started ripping the flesh of the oranges off with my teeth and sucking out the juice like a thirsty vampire. As I’m doing this, my sliced finger is burning from the acidic sticky juice flowing all over my hands. It burned, but felt like a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things and I really needed the sugar boost. I kept eating and sucking on the oranges as I crossed the Willis Avenue Bridge into the Bronx.

Some people I talked to at previous races said that the Bronx was boring and that it needed more bands and people cheering. I was mostly focusing on consistently fueling before Manhattan’s craziness again, so I didn’t mind that it was a little bit quieter. However, there were more fans than I expected, and the locals were really into cheering. They especially seemed to love cheering for the ginger girl with the big butt (yours truly) and saying, “Go Star Pants!”

I passed former Giants player Tiki Barber and didn’t realize it until after the fact when there were extra cheers for him in this neighborhood. I totally forgot that celebrities also run this event, so it was really cool to know that I was going faster than a professional athlete (even if running wasn’t the sport he’s paid to play).

I felt the carbs kick in and felt my pace pick up a little bit during that mile or so in the Bronx, and toward the end of Mile 20, a friend saw me and started running alongside to cheer me on as I got closer to the Madison Avenue Bridge, which is known to NYCM runners as the “Last Damn Bridge”. Every year, there is a woman who stations herself on the bridge with a loudspeaker for nearly 12 hours to boost the runners’ morales on the final bridge of the course. She’s like the opposite of the troll from the Three Billy Goats Gruff: she wants to see you survive crossing the bridge! It was a small bridge and the easiest one to cross, but I still loved that she was still on there cheering hours after the elite runners had passed. I was back in Manhattan and had only a little over 5 miles to go.

The course went down 5th Avenue, past Marcus Garvey Park, and remained parallel to Central Park for about a mile and a half. I may have already conquered the Last Damn Bridge, but I didn’t realize that I wasn’t past the Last Damn Incline. I didn’t anticipate how hard and steep 5th Avenue was uptown. Even though the temperature was in the 50s, the sun was beating down and my face felt hot and flushed. My form did not feel as strong as before and I felt myself slow down. It felt like I was running up a down escalator, not making any movement forward. I didn’t register that Habby was next to me around Mile 23 for the second Nuun bottle swap until it was physically in my hand. She said I was looking strong and still had a great pace, even though I didn’t feel that. I was mouth-breathing more than I wanted to, making me anxious. I also saw more photographers and tried to smile or have neutral expressions so I wouldn’t look like I was dying in my race photos. Why couldn’t they capture me earlier in the race?

I finally saw the turn into Central Park at E 90th Street and felt a boost of confidence. I got to Mile 24 by the 86th Street Concourse and tried to really listen to my MapMyRun announcement. Even though it was slightly off in terms of distance, I needed the overall time to figure out what I was capable of. I only had a little over two miles left and I was in familiar territory in the park. Based on what I heard, how I handled these last two miles I was either going to make or break my 4-hour goal. It was showtime.

Picking up speed around Mile 23…I knew the finish was within reach! 🏃‍♀️💨

I picked up the pace. I was running more by faith than by sight; the sun was directly in my eyes and even my sunglasses and baseball hat couldn’t block the glare. The spectators were overcrowding and pushing into the course, creating some bottlenecking on an already narrow paved road full of exhausted runners. Most were slowing down, but I had to weave around to find the pockets to let my legs fly. There was a wheelchair competitor that I almost ran into while blinded by the light and I had to do some quick lateral movements to avoid colliding with anyone.

Some of the trees were finally changing colors, giving me a nice backdrop to all the lamp post flags indicating this as the route for the marathon. I switched my music to the fast playlist to keep up the tempo. I felt myself slow down a little bit right after Mile 25, but reassured myself that I was saving it for the sprint at the end.

The course turned sharply right on West 59th Street at the bottom of the park, giving my eyes a moment to adjust to normal lighting. I sucked on more of my gels, throwing them triumphantly on the ground close to the barricades. The crowd was packed along 59th and there were cameras everywhere. I had my game face on, not knowing what my time was going to be but determined not to stop. I dodged debris all over the street and started honing in on my tunnel vision. I was going faster than before, breathing quickening, heartbeat matching my running cadence, but it wasn’t time yet for more.

I was adjusting my song for the last leg of the park and sharply turned into Columbus Circle, avoiding more tripping hazards and runners with varying speeds. My go-to inspirational running song, “Try Anything” by Shakira, was all set as I entered the park, but I could hardly hear it over my hammering heartbeat as my adrenaline shot through me once again.

I reached Mile 26 and kept up my cadence; the pitter-patter of my road-weary feet dancing to a waltz that only I could hear. I could see the grandstands on the elevated horizon to the right, where paying spectators could watch their loved ones finish. I held back and adjusted my breath rate to prepare to start my last dash once I reached the stands and Tavern on The Green to my left. It was uphill, and the finish line split in two; I had to make a quick decision which direction I would go. At last, I darted around runners in my all-out sprint and found a pocket where I could be seen by the cameras. I threw my hands in the air as I passed over the time chip reader, abruptly stopping at the gridlock of New York City Marathon finishers ahead of me.

I struggled to take my phone out of my pocket to stop my MapMyRun with my cold, sweaty hands. I took a few heavy breaths, feeling slightly lightheaded from shock and the overwhelming feelings of accomplishment and runner’s high. I tried getting a few obligatory selfies while the crowd ahead of me shuffled forward. I was invigorated; I never knew happiness like this until this moment. My smile took up my whole face; a grin where my pearly white teeth hung like a necklace from one ear to the other. I felt alive and thankful for my health, grateful for winning that lottery with a less than 9% chance of getting into the race. My thoughts raced and stood still at the same time. I felt love, respect, and more self-worth than any other thing or human could ever provide me in that moment. The whole day, the whole race, and the moment after were no longer a figment of my imagination for the future; I lived the reality of earning something big due to my own hard work and drive. Trying to describe a marathon achievement to a non-runner is like trying to describe colors to a blind person or sounds to someone deaf of ear; I can’t do it justice and you can only know when you experience it for yourself.

Back behind the finish line, the pileup of finishers continued. While mostly at a standstill, I took a quick video proclaiming the victory of completing my first marathon. A volunteer placed a medal around my neck as I felt more pings from the phone in my hand. I got in line for a quick photo with my medal in front of an official NYRR backdrop and proceeded to get my foil “space blanket” and shuffle to the exit with the rest of the herd. I was trying to hold my goody bag, a water bottle, my phone, all while holding onto the foil to keep me warm as my temperature dropped. I called my parents to tell them to meet me by the nearby subway stop a few avenues away, and I had no idea how long it would take me to get there since I was walking slowly with the crowd of finishers. If we didn’t have to stop running at 26.2 miles, I could have kept going, but the abrupt halt made my hips and legs tight in the cold.

I waddled like a penguin, feeling everything ache and still clueless as to my official time.The messages from my friends said I finished under 4 hours, and I just had to see for myself. My body heat was dropping drastically and I was freezing by the time I got my insulated poncho, so I had to wait to see my results. The poncho doesn’t have sleeves and you’re wrapped up in it like a swaddled baby, so it would be difficult to look on the app to find out the time. It felt like the longest walk to the subway stop to meet my parents and my best friend for nearly two decades, Alleyah. They were armed with flowers, water, and my requested Trader Joe’s Chocolate Milk. After a marathon, milk is not a bad choice, it’s much needed hydration and protein! And it was DELICIOUS.

I did it. I ran a MARATHON! 3:57.17 will be a number I will never forget, and I’m proud to have earned my name in The New York Times. It was the best day of my life so far, and I can’t wait to run more!

I, Cynthia, am a Marathoner.

I beat my 4-hour goal on my first marathon!

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