Marathons, they’re a funny business aren’t they? It seems like an awfully strange concept to want to dedicate a large chunk of your year to a race, that,despite months of training, you still have absolutely no idea how it will go. Despite all the will in the world, there is no guarantee you’re going to turn up on race day, fully fit, just as you’re about to read. So strap in, this is going to be a long one.
Now, before I go on, For clarity I’m going to whack a disclaimer at the bottom of this post, about the sponsorship around my marathon place.*
Training for a marathon has always been a bit hit and miss for me, I love to freestyle it, because, the first plan I ever followed got me injured, so I try and play it by ear and listen to my body. This mostly pays off, this year at the 2019 London Marathon I managed to get a fairly decent block of training in and PB, however, I did run on a bit of an injury, which saw me have to take two months off running. If you’re sat there thinking, this is pretty early for Matt to be getting his excuses in, that would be a very valid opinion to hold right now. After two months I headed straight back into marathon training, one of my finest plans to date. To my surprise, I had fully cured my injury, and normal service was resumed, life was great, I was loving running again, hallelujah.
All very positive thus far, I wish I could end the story there, and we could all live happily ever after in a world where running was just brilliant. But straight forward life is not, and on the 27th September I went for a nice 17 mile training run, which I quite enjoyed, ran at a nice easy pace, finished feeling like I had loads more in the tank, only to wake up the next day, to be completely betrayed by my own body, feeling like I had been booted in the shin. WHY OH WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME LEGS.
It was fine though…right? There were six weeks until race day, plenty of time to recover, so I spent the following weeks, mainly sat on a stationary bike in the gym, trying to regain some semblance of fitness. It was working, I felt fit, but my shin splint was not getting better. I tried everything, heating it up, cooling it down, resting it, gently exercising it, poking it every seven minutes, (that was mainly paranoia and not had no scientific backing) . Absolute frustration
Still, this being my fifth Marathon, I knew I could get round, I knew it was just probably going to be one of the most ugly races I’d run to date, but I would be able to at least finish it. November arrived much faster than I’d asked it to, and I soon found myself 3500 miles away in New York City, riding a bus to Staten Island. What on earth was I doing.
New York City Marathon - Starting Line
Arriving at the start line, the first thing you’ll notice is, that, November in New York is pretty damn nippy, People are wrapped in foil blankets, ponchos, old clothes, and huddling together like waddles of penguins, anything to keep warm. Announcements were made over the PA, starting pens were filled, then things got real… real American! The Army parachuted in with the smoke trailing from their feet, carrying their national flag, to the musical accompaniment of the star spangled banner. USA! USA! USA! Speeches were given, everyone cheered the NYPD. All that commotion, combined with the back drop of Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge, means NYC Marathon has quite the iconic start.
Then just like that, the klaxon went, confetti filled the air, we were off over the start line, climbing that bridge, my first run in six weeks, here we go.
The atmosphere as that first bridge is crossed is absolutely electric. Everyone is pumped, the NYPD fly their helicopter at runner level and wave at you from the warmth of the their cockpit, Everyone’s so very optimistic about the miles ahead, we are all, without a doubt, going to smash it.
New York City Marathon - Verrazano Bridge
As you descend from the bridge, you run down into Brooklyn, where, the crowds start to begin to form, and boy do Brooklyn bring the party. The route is lined deep with the most enthusiastic support you could ever ask for, signs in the air, screaming for every and anyone. Bands flank the route, and some how, had all got the memo to play my favourite songs, hearing Foo Fighters My Hero was a personal highlight, and the lads playing Rancid’s Ruby Soho definitely got my thumbs up. All was well, and the miles were disappearing as fast as they came.
With Brooklyn’s 4th Avenue complete, we headed toward the hipsters of Williamsburg, and also, my complete demise. You see, if I’ve not clocked up enough miles in training, my IT band will definitely let me know about it on race day, so I knew this was going to happen, I just did not realise it was going to come so soon into the race. Mile 10 was checked off the list, and then as I edged toward mile 11, I felt it, very slightly, my IT band was ringing ahead, letting it know it was soon to be knocking on my door telling me to call it a day. However, my brain had other plans, much preferable ones, ones that included me crossing that finish line and bagging a medal, and a nice blue poncho, I wasn’t going to give up just yet. So I made it to the halfway point, in 1:53, did some mental maths, and was pretty sure I could make it home before they packed the race up and headed home.
Miles 13 - 17 descended into a pick and mix of walking, stretching, and running. My IT band was maintainable at this point. Queensboro bridge also sneaks up on you here, and weirdly, I really enjoyed it. Sure, its a bit of an uphill slog, there are no crowds so everyone runs in a deathly silence. This silence means I could hear the encouragement of other runners who were are feeling the same pain as I was, we were all in the same boat, OK, maybe mine was sinking much quicker than everyone else, but our flotilla of partially submerged runners conquered that bridge and we all lived to tell the tale.
All these naval synonyms are well and good, but, time to get back to the real story here, the fact my race was, ultimately, over. The past 4 miles and really left their mark on me, my IT band was now very highly strung, and I could no longer run, not without a firey pain shoot through my knee. 9 Miles to go though, that’s an achievable distance to cover on foot. The thing that struck me about this was, I wasn’t even too bothered at this point, I was simply enjoying being part of, one of the greatest races I’d ever had the opportunity to run in. The crowds of the Bronx were still superb, many high fives were handed out, everyone was so supportive. I was still loving it.
I’m not sure how much to write about the 9 miles I walked, after all this is a running blog, and not a leisurely stroll through Manhattan blog. So, well let 6 miles pass by here and pick up just short of mile 23.
Heading into Central Park is where this race starts to get real tough, especially for those lucky enough to be running, the elevation starts to pick up, just when you want it to ease off, I could feel myself getting slower, I was also getting a little bit frustrated about the whole affair by this point. Everyone was still being incredibly supportive, the signs were still amusing me, but I was just a bit fed up, I knew I was going to make it to the finish line, but it could not come soon enough for me. Time seemed to crawl, and I so would I if I needed to.
After what seemed a complete life time, mile 25 was here. Crowds encroached aggressively into the path of runners, everyone was super hyped. The support still poured in. The finish line was so close you could hear it, I tried to rally my legs, I really bloody tried, but, my IT band would just not allow anything that resembled a run without a searing pain in my leg. This, however, has made for some highly entertaining race photos of me looking so mad its like I’ve just swallowed a wasps nest. I possibly wont be purchasing those as a reminder of how my day went.
Then, as soon as I’d started, I crossed it, the finish line was below me, and it was done, it was over. I shuffled through the crowded finishing pen, clocked eyes with a volunteer who ceremoniously placed an apple shaped medal around my neck, I’d got what I’d come for. Then I was hit by that weird finishing feeling, despite the second half of it, I just wanted it to do it all over again. Its such a strange emotion, having spent the last 2 hours wishing it would end, to then, it actually being over, except, then you don’t want it finish, because whilst it sucked, it was still giving you this incredible joy and meaning to everything you were doing. Weather its running, or cheering, there is something deeply moving about running 26.2, and this Marathon, is possibly the ultimate example of that. Every mile of this race just feels special.
A lovely old lady put my post race poncho around my neck, handed me my post race goody bag, and I exited central park. Surrounded by hundreds of other poncho-clad zombies, we shuffled back to whence we came, complete with this shared experience that’ll live on in the rest of us for as long as we can remember.
New York City Marathon - Where the ponchos are as iconic as the skylines
I learned a lot about me that day, and not just the pace at which I can walk at. Despite a mentally tough training period and run and walk, and as someone who usually only finds the joy in racing from the time on the clock, I still had one of the best times I could have asked for. It’s almost as if times are somewhat irrelevant in these journeys, and if you’re wondering if i’m avoiding putting my time up? You would be wrong, 04:35:30 was how long it took me, and sure its not the time I was after, but,I bloody did it.
New York Marathon, we’ve got unfinished business, I’m not sure when i’ll be back, but, one day, I’ll show you that I’m not just an over enthusiastic rambler.
** Disclaimer**
*My marathon place, kit, accommodation, and flights were provided by Sportsshoes & New Balance as part of their social media New York Marathon campaign.
