Race Calendar:

Many new races including Toys For Tots.

Coincidence?

Jim Jensen

A couple of weeks ago I was reviewing some of my 2003 September and October races, and happened to glance at my time in the 2003 Run Thru Deal race. However, I did not look into my book again before the 2004 race which occurred on October 10. (I did, however, remember that my time was in the low 40's.....)

I wanted to certainly beat my time from last year but again would not know the outcome of this until I arrived back home that afternoon.

The results for 2003 were:                        The results for 2004 are:
             Mile 1: 7:45                                         Mile 1: 7:51
             Mile 2: 7:53                                         Mile 2: 8:06
             Mile 3: 8:16                                         Mile 3: 8:17
             Mile 4: 8:23                                         Mile 4: 8:18
             Mile 5: 8:24                                         Mile 5: 8:09
TOTAL:           40:41                              TOTAL:         40:41

Well, while yes I was disappointed that I didn't beat last year's time, I was happy in the fact that a ran a "better" race in 2004. Miles 4 & 5 in 2004 indicate that I had a little more left then I did in 2003.

The New York Marathon

By Joel Stern

Running the New York Marathon has been my goal for quite some time.  I trained twice in the past few years and had to cancel due to lower leg injuries.  Finally, I gave up on the idea and figured I had better stick to shorter races and stay healthy. Early this year I again considered doing the Marathon. My daughter Amy, who has run New York four times, designed a schedule that would be kind to my legs and still give me the long runs that I needed.  

I started my training about four months prior to the race, gradually building up my mileage and then tapering down three weeks before the big day. Two weeks before the end of training, I literally hit a bump in the road. While running the trail around Manasquan Reservoir, I tripped on a root and took that proverbial flying leap, landing on the side of my face, knee, and hands. Luckily there were no serious injuries, just minor cuts and abrasions and I was able to return to running a day later.  

On Sunday, November 7^th, I was ready to join 36,500 fellow runners on the journey thru all five boroughs. Marathon day arrived with great weather, though it could have been a few degrees cooler. Amy had arranged for me to travel to the start on a bus provided by her running club, the New York Flyers (of which I am a former member). We left the city around 7:15 AM and arrived at the base of the Verrazano Bridge about 8 AM, a reasonable hour since many runners left as early as 6 AM. The start area was quite a scene—thousands of people stretching, sipping fluids, eating bagels, Power Bars or bananas -- preparing for what lay ahead.  Security was very tight.  Police helicopters buzzed overhead until the race began and then they flew back and forth alongside the bridge to watch over us. Each runner had a particular “start color” and had to assemble in a “corral” area corresponding to that color. Happily I had a blue start which meant I was on the upper deck of the Verrazano—important since it’s traditional for the guys to urinate over the side on the way up over the bridge—you don’t want to be on the lower deck. I was struck by how quiet and introspective everyone seemed as we waited for the call to the start. Once I began my march to the bridge there was a constant chatter and feeling of anticipation among those around me. Runners began to peel off their “throwaway” sweats which were later picked up and distributed to the homeless. Off in the distance I could hear the National Anthem being sung. Shortly the cannon roared and off I went.  From where I was positioned it took 6 minutes to get to the start line. “New York, New York” sung by Frank Sinatra, played over the PA system as I crossed the line. It was an imposing sight looking up at the Verrazano , but the actual climb up and over the bridge crest at 300 feet above the water was a piece of cake at this point.

As the runners came off the bridge, a huge “Welcome to Brooklyn, USA” sign greeted us and everyone whooped it up. From that point to the Pulaski Bridge 11 to12 miles ahead there were people lining both sides of the streets. At just about every mile there was a band playing to entertain us. Spectators were supportive beyond my imagination. I never want to hear that New Yorkers are unfriendly people. Water stations began at mile 3 and they continued every mile along the course with Gatorade at the even numbered miles. The volunteers were outstanding—there was never a wait for a drink and they cheered everyone on as well. Around mile 8, my left hip started to complain and I thought back to the start area where I had taken a precautionary dose of Tylenol and had dropped one of the tablets on the ground, leaving it there instead of blowing off the dust and taking it anyway.  I thought that since I had done most of my training on softer surfaces, my joints and muscles rebelled at the asphalt and concrete .Of course I was too stubborn to stop at an aid station and ask for another pill—that would have been too easy.  Fortunately, I’ve always had a high tolerance for pain, so I was able to more or less ignore my unhappy hip. Surprisingly, this was the only discomfort I felt during the race.

My 10k split was about what I anticipated. Then I got to the Pulaski Bridge which looked like a vertical slab of concrete, but I managed to get over it okay.   I approached the 59^th Street Bridge which Amy had warned me about.  It seemed never ending.  Fatigue set in and I slowed down a bit, including some walking to conserve energy. At the crest everyone let out a yell of relief that we finally made it.

What awaited us at the bottom of the ramp, turning onto 1^st Avenue in Manhattan was unbelievable. I could hear the roar before I saw what caused it—the biggest throng of cheering, applauding, screaming people that I ever saw on a city street. It was a boost I sorely needed. Meanwhile my hands swelled up so much I thought I was wearing mittens—it was impossible to close my fingers into a fist. I also began to realize that I wasn’t sweating as much as I should have and was becoming dehydrated. What I thought was adequate fluid intake didn’t do the job--maybe it was too much Gatorade and too little water. The trip on 1^st Avenue lived up to its reputation—party central—so I was somewhat distracted from my problems.

As I approached 72^nd Street I saw Amy running toward me—she had planned to join me for the next 9 miles and run to within a short distance before the finish. What a welcome sight!  She saw my condition and immediately suggested I increase my water intake and cut down on the Gatorade. We reached 72^nd Street where Bev stood proudly waving her sign proclaiming--.  “GO POPPY” on one side and on the other “1937 model and still running.”  My cap also had “POPPY” printed across the front and on the sides I had painted:”In Memory: May, Murray, Seymour and Tony honoring my sister, two brothers-in-law and close friend.

My son Hal had planned to follow me by taking the subway to various spots, taking photos and cheering me on.  Unfortunately, the previous day he fractured his ankle playing hockey, so of course was unable to join the fun in the city. Not to be stopped, he followed my progress via e mails sent to his cell phone from the various splits and in turn sent the info onto Bev and Amy. I missed seeing him on the sidelines, but his support helped me get through this challenge.

 After a quick stop to see Bev, during which time I told her to shoot me if I ever thought about doing this again, Amy and I continued up 1^st Avenue. She wore a sign reading “That’s my Dad” with an arrow pointing over toward me. This brought a lot of special cheers from the crowd.

Amy’s advice on hydration paid off and I began to perk up.  She kept me advised about what was coming up next—two more fairly easy bridges, a turn down Fifth Avenue, the entrance into Central Park, etc. What she didn’t tell me about until later was the number of people she saw laid out on stretchers in the medical tents around miles 18 and 19.  I’m usually not too thrilled to see people injured or ill who are doing the same thing I am, ignorance was bliss.  Instead my eyes were straight ahead toward that finish line.

We passed by some friends on 5^th Avenue exchanging high-fives and receiving much needed encouragement. Finally we turned into Central Park and passed Bev cheering at mile 24.5. Coming out of the park and onto Central Park South, we saw our very close friend Steve, a professional New York artist, cheering from the sidelines. He gave us a few laughs and a thumbs up.  Just before the course turned onto Central Park West, Amy turned me loose with instructions to lift my arms high, look up and smile for the camera as I crossed the finish line. I thought I had done this very well, until the pictures were e mailed to me and there I was with arms halfway up and my mouth set in a grimace. What elation to be finished and then I shed a few tears as the realization of what I had just done hit me.  I proudly accepted my medal and began the long, slow walk to the family reunion area.

I can never thank Amy enough for her efforts in getting me to the finish in one piece.—she went above and beyond, never losing faith in my ability to reach my goal. 

Several times after Amy had joined me I asked if there really were people still behind me and she reassured me there were thousands back there. My son writes a “blog” almost everyday and on November 7^th, this was how he ended his wonderful story about me:  “He’s fought off stress fractures, shin splints and gnarly neighborhood dogs to get to that finish line. His pace runner and trainer—my sister—is thrilled. From waving a sign at 72^nd Street to crossing the sea of people in Central Park my mom was there for support. I, of course, could not be more proud, for the man with the finisher’s medal is my father. Is there anyone behind you? You bet. All of us–every day.”

To my loving, supportive family—this one was for you.

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Newsletters: November Newsletter