Prelude to the TCS New York City Marathon

I said I would never do it. I could not understand why people would want to go through the expensive, logistical hassle of showing up at 6 a.m. on a November morning, waiting four hours to run with 45,000 other people through the streets of New York City. It did not make sense to me.

I did not get it.

The morning was cold and windy. I dressed as if it was winter, bundled up with old sweaters, gloves and a scarf that I would discard when the race was underway. The other folks in Montclair, dressed only in their race clothes, looked at me like I was a weirdo as we piled onto the buses and shared in the bagel breakfast provided for us by the Essex County Running Club.

But once we got to Fort Wadsworth on Staten Island, bundling up turned out to be the wisest move. Thousands of people waited to be called to their corrals on the Verrazano Bridge as the minutes ticked slowly by; some shivering, others huddled for warmth, some (like me) wrapped up in as much material as possible.

At that point, I began my video chronicle of the day's events, which I am in the process of putting together to present to you, so I will say no more...

...except this:

I totally get it now.

The real reason for the pre-race jitters

If there was any doubt before, this removes it. The real reason for my pre-race jitters has nothing to do with the actual running and everything to do with logistics.

The NYC Marathon is, of course, spectacularly organized. But it is still 50,000 people and that means the entire morning leading up to the race is one giant pain in the ass. 

Consider that I live about 30 miles from the start line but I have to leave five hours before my 9:40 start. Or that I'll be in a muddy field (thanks to all that rain yesterday) in cold wind for at least two of those hours. Or that I can only bring certain approved items to said field. Hours of pure discomfort before running 26.2 miles is nobody's idea of a good time. 

And so, I lie awake worrying about that stuff.

As for the actual running, things were looking up for a while. After a couple of tough weeks of slow, worn out running, something clicked and I suddenly felt like me again. On my short runs, I hit my first sub-seven miles since the marathon and all were negative splits. 

My 18 miler on felt so good that I ran an extra mile at the end and still managed to negative split it, too. Granted, it was a 7:59 average pace, but at least I knew I can go the distance again.

But last week was back to the doldrums. My legs felt like lead in the short runs and my painstakingly slow 21-miler along the Patriots Path in Morris County averaged more than nine minutes per mile. 

The rest of the week consisted of three slow three-milers. It is anyone's guess what I will manage to muster today in New York City. 

And really, I do not care. At this point I want to just get to the starting line without falling apart.