Wednesday, November 23, 2011

One Man's Marathon: A True Story

Steven L
Friends - it's finally over and I thought the best way to describe what went on this past Sunday should be a Jack Bauer-like recap. So much evolved I wasn't sure what to leave out.

Saturday, November 5th, 9:00 pm (Mount Kisco, NY) - I am busy getting organized and cutting off the sleeves of my Race to Stop MS T-shirt because there is no chance I am going to miss a Hans and Franz moment in front of 2 million spectators.


Sunday, November 6th, 5:40 am (Mount Kisco, NY) - I finished my bagel and peanut butter breakfast and I have popped my first 2 Imodium of the day. There will be no Greta Weitz moments for me today. I am dressed and ready to drive to the bus when the first crisis arises -- I cannot find my car keys. Sheepishly I woke Jill and told her my dilemma. After commenting "this is so typical of you" she said "don't worry, I'll drive you to the bus." Although time was now short I did have to patiently wait for Jill to brush her teeth before we left for the bus. All I wanted to say was "why do you have to brush your teeth in order to drive me three miles to the bus?" I am pacing, I am stressing and I am desperately trying to keep my mouth shut.



8:10 am (somewhere in Staten Island, NY) - After taking a route through New Jersey to get to Staten Island the bus gets caught up in a massive traffic jam. Some runners jump off the bus at the first opportunity. My 3 new bus friends and I decide to stick it out a little longer to see if the traffic will clear. After about 10 minutes more we decide the situation is getting worse so we ask the bus driver to let us off. Unfortunately he is now in the left lane and he refuses to open the door for safety reasons. At this point the remaining 7 or 8 runners are all screaming at the driver and insisting that he open the door. Finally when one of the female runners starts to cry -- that was the lubricant we needed. The doors swing open, we all bolt off and we started our trek to Fort Wadsworth (the initial staging area). I am not relaxed.

9:00 am ( Fort Wadsworth, Staten Island, NY) - I arrive at the staging area where the runners with green numbers assemble. It is incredibly well organized and somewhat serene. There are UPS trucks lined up taking your numbered bag, and Dunkin Donuts is serving bagels and coffee. It's a little like Ellis Island, however, given the number of languages being spoken. I pop two more Imodium and wait to be called to the corral.

9:30 am (Fort Wadsworth, Staten Island, NY) - The Wave 2 runners, of which I am one, are herded into a fenced-in corral adjacent to the Verrazano Bridge. I feel like a caged animal waiting to get slaughtered by the 26.2 miles ahead of me. We are stuck in this corral for more than 40 minutes but we do hear repetitive announcements that urinating on the bridge is unsanitary (really now) and may result in your disqualification. My plan was to run with the 4 hour Timex pace group and also with one of my running buddies, AJ. Regrettably in the mass of running humanity I can't find either of them. I am totally on my own. My anxiety level is peaking.

9:45 am (Verrazano Bridge, Staten Island, NY) - The gates open and the Wave 2 Green Corral runners make their way to the lower level of the Verrazano Bridge. As we are assembling, I realize that I have to pee for what is probably the 10th time this morning. Anticipating this, I carried with me onto the bridge an open mouth plastic quart container. The loudspeaker starts to play God Bless America and I make my move. I found a spot between 2 buses parked on the bridge, lowered my shorts and tried to do what should have come naturally. Well, talk about performance anxiety. We were already up to "through the night with the light from above" before things started flowing. By the time we were at "my home sweet home" the deed was done and I was ready to go. The gun went off, everyone cheered and I headed off into the abyss. About half way over the bridge a woman named Jill, who is from Pittsburgh, who I met in the corrals says hello. She was an experienced marathoner and she too said she is trying to break 4 hours. This was the guardian angel I needed. I start calling her JFP. She laughs and we start running together.

10:40 am (Mile 6, 4th Avenue, Brooklyn, NY) - JFP is telling me her life story which includes the fact that her husband, who she is in the process of divorcing, has some horrible auto-immune disease (not ALS but something else I can't remember) and that she is a breast cancer survivor. All this is a little depressing and more information than I needed but she was all I had. The crowds were incredible, the weather was perfect and I was feeling strong so some sad life commentary was not going to bring me down.

11:25 am (Mile 11, Bedford Avenue, Brooklyn, NY) - A young woman tapped me on the back and said "thank you for running to support a cure for MS." She told me that she has MS and that she became an endurance athlete to keep her body strong. In a moment of weakness, I sensed my eyes swelling up with tears as she put her headphones back on and took off into the pack. I was super stoked and incredibly touched.

12:10 pm (Mile 15, Queensboro Bridge , Queens, NY) - This is where the race really begins as the runners have to climb the long and steep embankment of the lower level of the bridge in eerie silence. In order to pump myself up and to break the monotony of the sound of the pounding feet I decided to yell out "we are strong people!", "we are rocking this!" and also "look away from the walkers!" The runners near me cheered -- not sure how the walkers felt -- but after all, they were already walking.

12:30 pm (Mile 17, 75th Street and 1st Avenue, Manhattan) - The electricity from the crowds on 1st Avenue and my elation that the Queensboro Bridge is past is invigorating. JFP is desperately looking for her BF who told her that he was going to look for her on east side of 1st Avenue in the 70s. A huge out-of-towner mistake. This was simply not working for me. I thanked her and wished her luck and moved on alone.


12:50 pm (nearing Mile 19, 113th Street and 1st Avenue, Manhattan) - I am excited to finally see my enormous and enthusiastic cheering section in East Harlem . My wife Jill made one of the best signs on the course that I could clearly see from blocks away. My friend, Kenny D, who we nicknamed El Bloomito for his Mayor Bloomberg-like Spanish prowess he employed on our trip to Barcelona, had the funniest sign on the course -- "Steve L - Runno Like El Windo." I cracked up. I am feeling good and running strong.


1:00 pm (nearing Mile 20, Willis Avenue Bridge, Manhattan) - I am about 90 seconds behind schedule when I decide to pick up the pace. Almost immediately I get a painful stitch in my right side. The wheels are starting to come off. 3:59 is in serious jeopardy.

1:08 pm (nearing Mile 21, 138th Street, Bronx, NY) - I am passing the police station that was prominent in the movie, Fort Apache-The Bronx. The pain from the side stitch is starting to subside but I realize that my entire lower body is now aching. I pull out from my shorts 2 Advil gel caps wrapped in tin foil. My fine motor skills are not great on a good day - after 21 miles of running they are probably the equivalent of a relatively uncoordinated 3-year-old. It takes me three blocks to unwrap the tin foil and get my hands on the Advil. I pop the first one in my mouth and I almost choke swallowing it. For the next pill I decide I will accumulate as much saliva in my mouth as I can and then swallow the pill. After a couple of minutes and with the Advil juice starting to leak from the capsule I decide it is just not worth it and I spit the pill onto the street. I have capitulated on my 3:59 goal and I have moved on to Plan B - 4:14.

1:30 pm (Mile 23, 100th Street and 5th Avenue, Manhattan) - This is the Waterloo or graveyard of the race. Starting at 110th Street on 5th Avenue there is a moderate but relentless incline that lasts for an entire mile. Having past my cheering section again at 113th Street and 5th Avenue I told them that "everything f…ing hurts." This hill only exacerbated the pain. This time I watched in horror as runner after runner broke down and began walking or simply collapsed. There was no sarcasm emanating from my mouth this time around. The course is humbling me.


1:41 pm (Mile 24 - East Drive, Central Park, Manhattan) - I have entered Central Park at Engineer's Gate and I have only 2.2 miles to go. I have run these miles scores of times so I know exactly what to expect. Out of nowhere both my quadriceps start to severely cramp. These are not the type of cramps that you can just rub and they will go away -- these are the potential lock down and collapse type cramps. I am like WTF - this cannot be happening. I thought about collapsing or going to the medical tent for fluids and a massage. That seemed weak and lame. I told myself, after all, it was my idea to run a marathon and this is what happens so deal with it. Instead I begged and pleaded with my body not to fail me now. A "DNF" next to my name was not an option. I prayed to God.

2:15 pm (Mile 26 - Columbus Circle, Manhattan) - Somehow (it must be my clean living) my quads never locked down on me and all I have is 800 meters to go. The band is playing Born to Run and at this stage even if I collapse I can crawl to the finish. I had this elaborate Jersey Shore-ish finish line dance I wanted to do but that was before my body broke down on me. I have no desire to screw around.

2:18 pm (Mile 26.2 - Across from Tavern on the Green - Central Park, New York) - My eyes well up for the second time as I cross the finish line with no fanfare. My watch says 4:11. I never walked. I am so f….ing relieved it is over. I immediately think of a victorious but beaten and bloody Apollo Creed telling Rocky Balboa in Rocky I -- "there ain't going to be no rematch." The finishers are more catatonic than jubilant as they walk to get their medals and their bags that they left at the staging area 6 hours earlier. I get my bag and immediately call in for a Jets score. They are up 13-0. All is good.


3:15 pm (Amor Cubano, 113th Street and 3rd Avenue) - My post-race party is rocking and I am a celebrity when I walk in the door. I immediately put down a chilled tequila shot with a Corona chaser. I couldn't be happier. Jill and my friends congratulate me as I continue to put down multiple more shots. The bartender wants to take pictures with me. The Jets win. The perfect ending to a pretty adventurous and eventful day.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Since beginning the process back in June I have run 500+ miles in all types of conditions in order to survive this race. I raised almost $4,000 for MS and I met an incredible number of truly awesome people along the way including some very dedicated coaches who somehow convinced a bunch of novice runners that they can do this. Even though the race was more difficult than I could have imagined I would not trade the entire experience for anything. Thank you to all of my supporters for your tremendous support in so many ways.

-Steven L

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