NYC Marathon

On Friday we hardly knew James Griffin.  We only knew of him, or rather of the company he keeps.  He’s the boyfriend of our good friend Claire Whitehill and mutual friends with many others we know in the Nation’s Capital.  So on Friday evening when he rang up to our apartment it was as a relative stranger.  By Sunday I felt I knew James much better. 

Friday night stranger.  Sunday night hero.

You see, James and Claire were in town for the NYC Marathon, with James participating as a first-time runner and Claire along for moral support after running the last two years.  We were excited to host James during his weekend adventure - yet totally naive to the actual effect the race has on the city. 

I guess it’s impossible to understand the magnitude of the Marathon until you experience it firsthand.  For all of this city’s energy and ambition, you sometimes get the feeling that everyone’s so incredibly busy with their own individual lives that the bigger picture often goes unnoticed.  Perhaps it’s the influx of outsiders on race weekend - or the rather pragmatic fact that almost every road is blocked off - but for some reason there was a different feel on race day.  For once, everyone took a step away from the regular Sunday routine and came together in a fitting celebration of community that was altogether un-New York.

To say the city’s response was fitting is to speak of the courage of the runners themselves.  Our new friend James was one of 40,000 participants who made their way to Staten Island Sunday morning for the starting gun. As we watched runners of all shapes and sizes run by (and many more on their wheelchairs), I thought of the dedication evidenced by the rustling around in our apartment at 4:15 am as James gathered his belongings pre-race.  And I remembered that for every early morning wake up call on race day there were countless hours over many months spent training for this test of endurance.  Perhaps the only thing worse than contemplating the grueling course stretched over all five boroughs is the incredible sacrifice of life and limb it takes to train for the fateful day.  And yet 40,000+ thought it was worth it.

As the runners passed us at the halfway point in Long Island City, it was clear many were having the time of their life.  They wore t-shirts for their charities, their country, or just their names.  And we tried to do our part, shouting for “Team Jake”, “Italia”, “RAMON”!  James was all smiles with 12 miles to go - so we hopped on the subway in hopes of catching him on Manhattan. 

By the time we made it to Central Park, James had another 8 miles under his belt.  So we waited near the 24 mile mark as wave after wave of enduring competitors marched on.  It can be quite difficult to look for one runner among 40,000 - and as we watched the masses pass it was clear that the 80/20 rule applies to marathoning as well - the last 20% of the race takes 80% of the effort - or more.  And yet James did make his way by us once again, smile still on his face and pace slowing yet still swift. 

James battled through the last two miles on his own and we made our way to the cool down area where finishers walk off the acid buildup that 26.2 will do to you.  With foil wraps around them to trap in their heat, the juxtaposition of moods was palpable.  With every gut-wrenching step you could practically feel the pain emanating into the air.  And for the first time all day there was the deafening sound of silence.  Yet step after painful step, there was the inner glow of personal accomplishment.  Of victory.  These were finishers.

We never did find James among the crowd walking past, it was only later that found him waiting for us in our pre-determined spot.  But when we saw him it was clear that he too shared the feeling of the multitudes - the glorious grimace of challenge overcome.  Heroic indeed.

So by now you can see that Marathon weekend was quite a lot of fun.  And yet it’s scary too, because it ignited a part of me that’s perhaps been afraid to come out for quite some time.  A place deep down inside which wonders what it would be like to step in the arena myself - to actually run the race. 

NYC Marthon 2009 - who’s in?