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SRRC Race Reports
Gray Line

New York City Marathon, New York, NY—November 5, 2006
by Catalina Gomolka

I woke up at 5:15 am the morning of the 2006 NYC Marathon and gradually and quietly got dressed in our hotel room. As I stepped into the elevator, I wondered how quiet it would be walking in the NYC streets at 5:45 am. The elevator door opened, and I saw a crowded lobby. There were runners everywhere. Any stranger coming into this scene would have imagined it was the middle of the day. I walked outside—it was still dark, but the streets were anything but quiet. Everywhere I looked there were people. Again, a stranger would not have guessed it was so early on a Sunday morning. As I walked towards the New York Public Library, where a bus would take me to the start at Staten Island, I looked around and thought how interesting a scene it was. The streets were busy, but this time, every single person in the street was a runner. I made it to the bus stop and was amazed how quickly they loaded us on the buses considering the incredibly large line or runners. The buses just kept coming. The ride to Staten Island was uneventful. I got to talk to the person sitting next to me. He lived in NY and had run the race a few times, so I was able to ask him some questions. I was extremely curious about the start. We were to arrive at Staten Island at 7 AM and we wouldn't start running until 10:10 am. What in the world were we going to do for 3 hours? Worst of all, this was the first marathon in which I was alone at the start. My husband and/or parents are usually with me in the beginning. It is comforting, and they keep me from getting too nervous.

As we got off the buses, volunteers lined up cheering for us. At that point I thought "so this is what professional athletes feel like." The race was still 3 hours away and people were already cheering for us. It was wonderful.

The 3 hours flew by—I made a couple of trips to the porta johns, got breakfast and coffee, attended a prayer service, and read. And just watching people—how they prepared, their pre-race rituals—was fascinating. I learned a few tips for next time!

We lined up in our corrals and we walked—and walked—and walked—and walked some more. Finally—10:20 am, we crossed the start line. Music was blaring, people cheering, runners taking pictures. We were crossing the Verrazano Bridge. The famous start. As I crossed it I heard a few people say "this is the hardest part." Apparently the first half of the bridge is uphill. I didn't feel it. The start was exhilarating.

We crossed over and hit Brooklyn. At that point, I noticed that I was pretty sore. AGH! I had been sore all week and was worried how I would handle it during the marathon. I took it one mile at a time. Despite the pain, I was able to zone out and concentrate on the crowds. I've never run a race where I wasn't completely focused on the miles. I was enjoying the sites and the crowds. Brooklyn and Manhattan were my favorite—people everywhere, bands, cheerleaders. The firefighters were all out too, all waving from on top of their fire trucks. One even had a sign that said "You are my heroes." THEY are the heroes, but it sure was nice to get their support.

Crossing the Queensboro Bridge was a pretty significant moment. At that point we hit 16 miles. I was really hurting. My pace until that point had been slower than I had hoped, but it was still good enough to make it under 5 hours, which was my goal. I knew my husband Brian was going to be at around mile 17. As I got off the bridge, I seemed to forget my pain again. We were in Manhattan—the legendary First Avenue run. Crowds everywhere, 3-4 people deep. Due to the excitement I picked up my pace. I thought to myself of the warnings I'd gotten from several people— "once you hit Manhattan you may be psyched and run faster, but remember, that's only mile 16." I ignored the warnings. I ran and ran, feeling great. I was going to see Brian soon, and I was excited! Mile 17 passed, and I saw him. YAY! Amazing energy boost. I kept the speed until shortly after seeing him, then I slowed it down, really starting to feel the pain. The hardest part of the race was when we left Manhattan and entered the Bronx, I had about 6 miles to go—a 10K . . . I could do this. I had seen a lot of people stretching, so I thought it'd be a good idea. I stopped after a water stop to stretch and felt like I was about to cramp up—not a good idea after all. I immediately stopped trying to stretch and kept running.

Mile 18. I thought about my 20 miler and how well it had gone. I had run the entire thing. I thought to myself—I can do that again. No walking until 20. I kept running. Once I got to 21 the streets were once again full of people. At that point there's no walking, not with the tons of spectators there watching you! So I kept running. The next couple of miles seemed to take forever. I should've really looked at the map and noted at which point we entered Central Park, because at least I could've counted down the streets. At this point I just wanted to get inside the park. I knew I'd see Brian at 24, so that kept me going for another few miles. At 24, I saw Brian and a couple other friends of mine. Again—energy boost! That meant I was almost done!!! WOOHHOOO!!! I looked at my watch and noticed that I was pretty close to 5 hours—I had to pick up my pace to make it. So I did. At 25 miles, I don't know what hit me, but I just sped through (or at least I thought I was going fast—in reality probably not so much). I was going to make it under that 5 hours mark even if it killed me. Official time: 4:59:17. It didn't kill me.

NY was an incredible experience. Now I think no other marathon will top that! We'll see though—I'll have to do some comparisons. . . . San Diego, Chicago?!

November 2006

Gray Line

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