North Vancouver

7am Monday morning i am laying on the massage table(thanks to my thoughtful hubby for booking me in) and as Helga is mashing my battered body i contemplate what is the draw of running the New York City marathon....I am physically and mentally exhausted after getting up at 3 am to organize my gear, meet the group in the Essex lobby at 4am, walk into the freezing cold to catch the subway- photos are taken of us by the 'normal folk' just getting home from enjoying the city that never sleeps!! We pile out of the subway at Bryant station, stagger to the library, being greeted by way too cheery volunteers who want us to find our numbers, we are then shuffled into the hundreds of buses awaiting us to take some 26 miles away to the start zone on Staten Island. It is a quiet bus ride, most of us would rather be sleeping, know that we need to conserve our energy, and can't quite get our mouths operational...yes, even me!!! When we arrive we our escorted off the bus and into Fort Wadsworth with only the clothes on our back and our clear UPS bags, unsure of what the next 10 hours will hold for us. Even though we don't have to separate, the military organization prevails and our group is quickly disbanded into the COLOUR zones...will i ever see them again???

True to my word, I locate myself to the "right of the main stage in the OPEN zone" where folks of all 'colours' can gather, but no one is there but me. I sit on my garbage bag, huddle up in my NSA soccer coat and pull the hood deep over my face trying to fend off the freezing winds that have others clinging to new found friends, some even spooning strangers, some choosing to hide out in the 'religious tent', others too stunned by it all to move anywhere but the first site they spotted. An hour goes by and James Go wanders by so I plead that he join me, nice guy that he is, he concedes and we pass the time avoiding the fatal question of why the hell have we paid a couple of thousand dollars and flown across the continent, to sit for 6 hours in the chill hours of the morning to run a marathon, especially since we have both already accomplished this feat several times??? Instead we chat about what we have done in the Big Apple since arriving and that raises our spirits (but not our core temperature). James graciously offers to get us both coffee but laughs upon tasting Dunkin'Donuts "#2 ranked coffee in America" knowing that my comment about the foul tasting coffee at the start zone was too kind. As the sun starts to rise we are joined by Kelly and start to see others as they pass by in search of something warm. I get up for hugs and good wishes (but mostly to take their body heat). On the stage behind us we are mildly entertained by various groups and we are repeatedly told that this is the "world's largest marathon in the world's greatest city" and yet all I can think about is that if this is true how they can't figure out a better system of transporting the 40,000 runners to this hell hole of a start zone...hmmm that sounds like some stinkin' thinkin' and i quickly take up a conversation with Kelly to keep me positive.

Some 6 hours after I woke up, it is finally time to stagger to the start line. Hugs around for the NSA family that has finally gathered (the religious service got too much for some, others finally realized that they needed to get the blood flowing in their feet), photos are taken with the Verrazano bridge in the background and off to the colour zones we go. All plans of meeting up with my running pal Hilary have gone awry as some over zealous volunteer has misinformed her (and several others) that they can't switch colour zones, so off to Orange I go solo, at least the line for the loo is negligible and maybe I will run into somebody i know!!!.

Corralled onto the Verrazano bridge like cattle, I start to sense my excitement as the adrenaline of others is contagious. Standing on the bridge with the Manhattan skyline way off in the distance, you ask yourself the proverbial question: Do I have what it takes? Will all the months of training hold fast? Will your discipline and dedication have been enough? Will you stick to your race plan and not get caught in the euphoria of 40,000 others and just go for it? For some this moment is so emotional that tears start to flow! A few deep breaths and a reality check quickly reminds me that I am here to enjoy the moment (well, the 4.5 hours) of the 5 burroughs, to take in ALL the sights, even to stop and take photos and, of course, cheer on every single NSA runner I see out there!

The gun goes off and within minutes we are into Brooklyn. I was worried that with the wave starts the crowds might have thinned out as it has been more than an hour since Paula Radcliffe and the pro-women zoomed by but New Yorkers didn't disappoint. They are there, lined up on the streets, banging pots, ringing cowbells, playing their ghetto blasters, even shouting your name if it is anywhere on your body. There are bands every few miles belting out their tunes, the boys (and girls) in BLUE are lined up to cheer you (and their own) on, and firetrucks in every neighborhood loaded with some eye candy.

At mile 8, all three colours merge and it is a sea of runners, I hear my name and true to his word Keith is snapping photos and telling me I look strong, he hasn't seen very many NSAers but has just seen Carolyn and Cindi pass by moments earlier. I worry that i am going too hard as they are way faster than me but decide to just go with the flow and see what happens. We turn right and the noise decibel has tripled with the single course. The crowd is going insane, each side of the street trying to be louder than the other and you can't help but smile at the insanity of it all, one that we are running 26.2 miles and two, that these total strangers are cheering us on like we are winning the damn thing, and we are not even a third of the way in!!

I try to stay focused on ALL that is going on around me as last time I missed out on a few key sights... I see Lighthouse Larry go by (yes, wearing a wooden lighthouse from knee to way over his head), I chuckle at Waldo (as in where's Waldo) weaving through the runners, I constantly read the sayings on the shirts, some bringing tears to your eyes, others making you laugh "26.2 miles to beer" was one of my favourites! Everyone is working hard at staying positive, finding the inner strength to stay true to their plan and so far it seems to be working for most. At mile 11 I notice the Orthodox Jewish community as i am nearly taken out by a father dragging his daughter across the street- at least i didn't miss them this time:) Then i see a familiar run gait and i and call "James Go" and in his low key nature replies 'hello Laura"...hmmm 40,000 participants and i find a familiar face and that is all he has got to say!! I sense he is having a tough day and leave him as we hit the half way mark and our second bridge bringing us into the 3rd burrough of Queens. I am reminded to check out the Manhattan skyline by some fellow runners who point out Trump Tower, and the Chrysler builiding taking photos while others capture it on handheld video cameras. That can only mean one thing... the climb to Queensboro bridge, staying positive i think of ALL the f... hills we have done and how hard can this one be? I must be able to tough this out and onto the bridge we climb. It is dark and it is quiet, nervousness looms in the space and each runner is digging deep, a loud horn from a passing subway driver is the only encouraging sound for almost 2 miles but i know what is coming, this is the calm before the storm of Manhattan.

Sure enough, it starts with a low rumble, then gradually builds to a crescendo! Runners are pulling over to the edge to check out what is making the noise and nothing can prepare you for the sound of over a MILLION spectators lining the streets as you round off the bridge and start the chug along First Avenue. They are so loud you cannot hear the bands. This is the widest part of the marathon and eventhough it is some 3 hours since the first runners raced passed these folks don't disappoint (mind you many are drunk by now but i will take any cheering i can get) and thanks to the "laura" sticker on my race number from Rick Gustavson i am hearing my name loud and clear. Unfortunately my body is starting to feel the duress of 16, 17, 18 miles and i am starting to falter, I shoot back a few Tylenol and a Motivator and will my body to just keep going. I think about the disabled athletes who are out here on crutches & canes hobbling along to raise $ for Achilles Foundation, I think of the AWD (athletes with a disability) participants and ALL those running for a cause, and i just suck it up.

Another bridge brings you into da Bronx and they "WELCOME" you loud and clear at the 20 mile marker, at 21 it is back into Manhattan Harlem style and you hear the voices of the gospel singers contrasted with the rappers. Time for my gel, I unwrap it like it is a treasured piece of the finest chocolate and savour each squeeze, I am willing it to bring me the energy to chug up the last 5 miles into and around Central Park. I look up and like an epiphany see the Empire State building looming in the horizon, a few hours earlier this looked a lifetime away and now i am less than an hour from the glorifying finish. The wear and tear of the marathon is apparent as the carnage lines 5th Avenue...racers walking, limping, tilting, stumbling but all still moving uphill. The crowd is euphoric and they try to get the wounded energized, it works for some, others are too far gone to be saved, yet they stagger onward.

Into Central Park we go and i know not to get too excited, we have retraced the final 2 miles with our morning runs and i hold back, that is until I am slapped on my ass by my hubby screaming at me to give it all i have, I start moving a little faster and think about all those Tuesday and Thursday speed workouts and wonder what is left in the tank to bring me home, i think about Joy Silcock's comment about never having really pushed herself and I open up my stride. I move closer to the fans so they can read my name and sure enough they start yelling fanatically Go Laura GO!! and i follow their command out of Central Park,up 59th street, and veer through Columbus Circle back into the park, I see my reflection in the Jumbotron and am spurred on, i pass a guy in a kilt and make up dressed as Braveheart and wonder what he is wearing under it, then i refocus on the race as i pass under the last mile marker, then 200 m to go, 200 yard, what uphill finish? I am flying up the inside and hear the thunder of the crowds in the Grandstands, who almost 3 hours earlier watched Paula Radcliffe win, but now they are cheering for me, i am a celebrity in my own right! Arms raised high i pass under the FINISH banner! I did it, I have what it takes! I recieve my medal, get wrapped up in my foil blanket and start my journey for my UPS bag, my hubby and then my hotel!! It will be more than an hour to accomplish this.

We are highfived at our hotel entrance by the boys from White Rock, all fresh and showered, stoked about their race and ready for some testosterone highs at the Giants football game. In the lobby we see Anna Bosa showered and stunning having just qualified for Boston with a time of 3:34. In the elevator after our steam we bump into Steve so proud of his wife (Jodie) who just did her first marathon, Hilary drops by for a shower and is initially disappointed with her run but bounces back when she realizes that less than a year ago she had never run a marathon, now she has 2 marathons under her belt and a family of runners from NSA who share her passion.

Showered and refreshed we head over to the Stone Rose lounge, 3rd floor of the Columbus Circle with a spectacular view of Central Park. Surrounded by over 40 members of the NSA run family you can feel the sense of accomplishment buzzing in the air. People share their stories of the day with exuberance and little regard of the finishing time, it is apparent that it is much more about the experience...Linda Morley, Rick Gustavson and Johann Burger all sharing this day with their children (all the offspring running their first marathon), the many sets of couples(Bosas, Hextors, Steinbergs, Smiths) the first time marathoners (Peter, LaVonne, Jodie, Carolyn, Darryl- who was inspired by older brother Dale to take on the marathon challenge)and of course the repeat offenders (Jim Bovard, Melissa, Jenn, Cindi, James). It is hearing these stories and the sense of pride in each and every voice that gives me a shiver while I sip my pomegranate margharita and scan the room that is brimming with smiles of all the folks who made their day happen.

With my massage almost over and Helga finishing up with some face slapping technique, I realize that THIS is the essence of the NYC marathon... what you have left to say when all is said and done and your time is lost in the experience of the day! That when you cross that finish line in Central Park you have answered the question that YOU have what it takes. And being in New York and taking in as many sights, sounds and memories of not just the marathon but what makes it the city that never sleeps is ALL part and parcel of the experience, one that I will go for again! That is the draw of the NYC marathon.

I am so proud of ALL of you and hope to see many of you back running with us again soon, perhaps November 16th!!!! Thanks for sharing your time and experience with us!

Runningly yours, Laura

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