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I have just returned from my third trip to the New York City Marathon. I am passionately in love with this event, the biggest marathon anywhere. And, in the most badass city on the planet.
The first time I watched the race was in 1985. I was only running the occasional 10K in the 80s and spent most of my time skiing and wind surfing. After having my daughter, I became interested in running distances and had the great fortune of having my application picked for the 2003 New York City Marathon entrant lottery. Last year I participated as a runner-guide for a disabled athlete. Unfortunately, a tweaky knee curtailed my training this summer and I had to cancel this year's entry that I won once again in the lottery.
However, my brother, who just turned 50, won a place in this year's race. He trotted with style into middle age by running the course as his very first marathon. I joined my family members and an estimated two million spectators to cheer on my brother and the rest of the 38,000 athletes through the five boroughs of New York City. The marathon is also a grand excuse for a street party. Combine that festive atmosphere with the upbeat sensibility of a motivational workshop, add the 'Rocky' theme song blaring as background music and you just may begin to tear up while you're smiling your face off. It's thrilling, inspiring stuff, witnessing a chunk of humanity sprint/jog/slog past you, all those sweating and earnest faces, all that heart and sole, and yes, that pun is intended.
Blogging women covered the event from both sides of the course barricades -
The very charming magickat, a "not-so-starving-anymore actress and magician's assistant living her crazy dreams in New York," watched the race while handing out swag goodies for Dunkin Donuts. She captures the sweetness of the race in this post:
It was herds of people. So many people it was almost overwhelming. There were people running for themselves and people running in memory of other people. There was a blind man running. There was a man with metal posts for legs running. It was amazing...I would yell out names (if people had them written on their shirts) as they were running past us. When they would hear their names they would look over and smile or raise their arms triumphantly. It was great.
There was a woman running. She was dressed like an angel. She had a t-shirt on with a photograph of someone. I imagine that person is no longer alive.
A man ran past with scars all up and down his thighs. Same scars on both legs. I don't even want to think about what surgery he had or why he had to have it. But he was running. I know that for sure. He was running and he was determined.
This one group of people were standing near the route. They were waiting for someone they knew in the marathon to run by. In a sea of 38,000 + people, this group was waiting. They saw the person they were waiting for and went nuts, screaming and yelling, and cheering. And she saw them and you could see she was so moved. So charged up from that. After she went past, the group all stood there and talked about how good she was doing, how strong she looked. And then they went underground into the subway, to go further up the route, to find her again, and cheer her on again.
...It was truly inspiring. Not only the runners, but also the people in support. Being there for them. Waiting on the sidelines for them. Searching the sea of people for them. Just to be there and shout their name and give them some love power to make them feel good and proud and alive. It was just beautiful.
Marathoner Natalie Wolf, aka, I Am The Big Bad Wolf was in the sea of athletes and posted a wonderful race report complete with a certain little song from a guy named Sinatra. Some excerpts:
If you are going to run the New York City Marathon, you've got to wear an "I Love NY" t-shirt. The spectators in Brooklyn were amazing -- they LOVE New York! Instead of screaming my name they screamed "We love you too!" or (the best one) "I love you too, Babe!" I wore my Girls
