NYC Marathon 2010

It's marathon day in NYC and the city was abuzz with over 42,000 runners from around the globe, who have come prepared to run through all five boroughs (Staten Island, Brooklyn, Queens, Bronx, Manhattan), a feat that would be exhausting enough by subway.  Even that Chilean miner who was trapped for 69 days and ran up to 6 miles a day in work boots to keep his sanity until his rescue, was here to conquer the streets of this city.  I headed to the Upper East Side to meet Frenchie, to cheer on OCD who was running in her first marathon.  As I approached 1st Ave, the runners came into view and I could hear the yells of encouragement from the mass of spectators.  I waded through the crowd at the corner of 78th and 1st and finally managed to spot the back of Mr. OCD's head and then Frenchie soon after, who was waving a Canadian flag.

Both of them had downloaded the runner tracking application on their iPhones, however the network was flooded and the app was slow or just not very accurate.  Based on the last update, we figured OCD should be passing us (mile 17) around 1:30 to 2:00 pm.  We stood screaming out at runners who had emblazoned their names or nationalities on their dri-fit shirts, or to those sporting bizarre costumes.  "Allez la France!" Frenchie called out to her people.  We saw a man in a chicken suit, one in a full rubber rhino costume and even Jared the Subway guy and his large entourage run by - but still no OCD!   At some point, Bubbles stumbled out of the bar on the corner to join us, slightly tipsy from the four bloody mary drinks she had consumed.  "I met the cuuutest guy" she gushed, while chomping on a chicken wrap, probably trying to sop up some of the alcohol in her stomach.  We waited and waited and the pace of the runners became noticeably slower with so many looking painfully exhausted as they ambled along the route, littered in water cups and damp sponges.  The sleek, light footed participants were long gone and replaced by middle-aged men with skinny legs and beer bellies, older ladies in running skirts and people who honestly looked like they fell off their couch and decided to run a marathon - the crowd clapped and urged them on.  I loved seeing the look of excitement on a runner's face, the moment they spotted their personal cheering section and would skip excitedly towards them for words of motivation that would miraculously provide a second wind.  The woman beside us shrieked out in rapid Spanish when she saw her man, wearing a shirt with the Peruvian flag.  He came over and planted one hell of a kiss on her - adorable.  Guessing that OCD could not be part of this pack and she had passed, Bubbles returned to the bar and the rest of us walked towards Central Park, stopping briefly to recharge at a Starbucks.  "We must have been distracted by the Subway guy" mused Mr. OCD, trying to figure out how we missed our girl.

Once in Central Park, we situated ourselves along the race route around two miles from the finish line.  It was even more fun here as it was less crowded and there were no barricades.  Frenchie, our little impostor, waved the Canadian flag and howled at the Canadian runners who would reward her with a smile, a holler back or a high five.  Of course her yells of "Allez la France" were a bit louder with one of her countrymen hilariously responding "La France est fatiguee!" ("France is tired!").  We saw the chicken, the rhino, Jared and then all of a sudden - it was OCD!  We cheered wildly, yelling out her name!  She smiled and scampered along, looking strong and every bit an athlete in her technical running gear.  She slowed down as she neared us and declared "I am never doing this again!"

Happy that we had actually seen OCD on the course, we walked to the exit to meet up with her after she finished.  We also managed to pick up Bubbles on the way, who appeared to have sobered up a little.  We passed hoards of finishers, wrapped tightly in silver heatsheet blankets, medals around their necks, some limping in pain and we offered our congratulations.  When we met up with OCD, she described how hard it was and how she hit a wall after mile 12 and thought she would cry but regained her will at mile 20.  Near the end she had started to walk, but an older man, who had been tracking to her pace the entire race encouraged her to run on and she gained more speed in the last half mile.  She also explained that she had to stop three times to use the port-o-potties and all three times there was no antibacterial hand gel!  I dug through my purse and handed her a bottle of Purel which she gratefully accepted.  We had a celebratory post-run dinner in K-town followed by Pinkberry, but what OCD craved most was - Tropicana orange juice.  

We are awfully proud of OCD and very much inspired by her accomplishment and really the accomplishments of all those average joes that fell off the couch, trained hard and ran.  It was a great day and demonstrated several things - that people are amazing, NYC is amazing and that even those seemingly impossible goals are attainable with hard work, perseverance and the support of your loved ones.  And the support of roughly 2.5 million complete strangers can help too!