The New York City Marathon 2012-2013

Back in March of this year I was checking my email and noticed I had two emails. One was a notification from twitter and the other was from the NYRR (New York Road Runners). I eagerly opened the NYRR email and read through it rapidly. Finally, after four months of wondering what the situation would be for the 2013 ING NYC Marathon, I finally had some concrete answers. The email outlined instructions describing the amount of entries that would be given for people in a “guaranteed entry” position and described the process the returning runners would need to accomplish to get a race bib. I was grinning knowing that I would be running the NYC Marathon this year. I was also happy that the planning for this trip could officially begin. After rereading the email for a second time I checked my other email. The email notification from twitter was about a tweet Adam had sent me. All it said was, “April 24.” It was referring to the new registration date for the marathon and I instantly knew he had just read the same email. We would soon start preparations for our confirmed “runcation” to NYC.

Immediately after the disaster of last year’s marathon in NYC Adam and I were a bit distraught. The last minute cancellation of the marathon hit us like a wrecking ball. Back in 2012, we had just picked up our bibs from the expo and had bought quite a few souvenirs. We were in line to purchase another marathon shirt when Adam’s father called and informed us that the marathon was indeed cancelled. Adam handed the phone to me and his father told me he was watching the news broadcasting the live announcement. I told him we would check on it and call him back. It was true. The devastation from hurricane Sandy had finally brought down the marathon. The people at the expo slowly started to quiet down. The excited crowd soon became a strange gathering. Adam and I quickly returned some of the purchases and made our way toward the exit. Before leaving the expo we saw a crowd gathering around some TVs that were broadcasting the announcement. It was true, the marathon was cancelled. Some of the runners were in tears while others were hot headed and looking for answers. I was in disbelief and it wasn’t until Adam pulled me out of the expo and onto the shuttle bus that it hit me. I was not to be running the NYC marathon this year.

Crowds gathered to confirm the cancellation in 2012

After dealing with the hardships of delayed flights and cancelled hotels we decided to get home as soon as possible. The public transportation was crowded and not running in all locations. Taxis were sparse since gasoline stations had lines of cars blocks deep. Hotels were charging outrageous prices due to limited space. People were arguing in the streets and the hostility and anger could be felt in the air. This was not the right time to run a marathon. Not here, when the city needed to rebuild and get on its feet again. Adam and I spent the night with a friend and left in the morning.

We arrived back in Chicago with a bitter mood. We had spent a small fortune traveling to New York and seen firsthand what the effects of hurricane Sandy had done. Fortunately, Adam and I weren’t completely deflated. We still had a good attitude and decided to run the Hot Chocolate 15K race in Chicago that next day. Instead of running a marathon in NYC we still made an impact by wearing our NYC participant shirts and bringing attention to what was going on with the recovery efforts. I’m proud to say that the Hot Chocolate race actually recognized our efforts and even sent a care package in our name to the Sandy relief effort. We made the best of the situation and began the long process of waiting. We would wait and wait until we got the chance to once again run the NYC Marathon.

Finishing the 2012 Hot Chocolate 15K with our NYC outfits (Hot Chocolate bibs were on the back, no bandits here!)

And now here we were, both Adam and I again in New York City in November. A year later we were standing among the sea of people on the Verrazano Narrows Bridge waiting to begin the last part of our 2 year journey. It was all happening so fast, yet at the same time, it was like time standing still. It had that spellbinding feeling of knowing you’re about to enter something you’ve been excited about for a long time. For kids it might be that moment before entering Disney World for the first time or for teenagers going to their first Homecoming dance. But as adults, we rarely encounter a moment of extreme anticipation before an exciting event. Finishing college, getting married, or the birth of a child all have great emotional connotations. However, those accomplishments are often a more personal celebration with close family and friends. So standing here among a crowd of runners from all over the world brought back that special feeling that would be uniquely shared with not just these 50,000 runners, but with 12,000 volunteers, 2 million spectators, and everyone else involved with the 2013 ING NYC Marathon.

Special bracelet given to returning marathoners

The national anthem was played over dozens of loudspeakers and was sung by a chorus of children. Promptly following was the start of the elite fields and a brief motivational speech by the race director Mary Wittenberg and Mayor Michael Bloomberg. The 353^rd Army Civil Command set off the howitzer canons to signal the start and the shuffle toward the start line began. Frank Sinatra and his orchestra serenaded us with the iconic "New York New York" song as we began the race. I crossed the start line and with a shout of joy I had begun the NYC Marathon.

The calmness from the Staten Island Ferry a few hours ago was completely gone. That ride had its own quality that will not be forgotten easily. Seeing the Statue of Liberty and feeling the chilly breeze had me shed the first of many tears that day. I’m not usually an overly emotional person, but I couldn’t help but feel so blessed and fortunate to be here today. Looking at the mountainous skyscrapers and seeing the rising sun reflect off them made me realize that this life we live truly is wonderful. Just taking in the view that symbolizes the freedom this country stands for resonated deeply with me. Freedom is life and a choice. Some are born into it while others fight their way to reach it. But for many Americans they are unaware of how much freedom they have. They take it for granted and although they live in a free society, they have yet to truly free themselves beyond the social constructs and liberate their bodies and minds. I’m talking about freeing yourself from limits your mind may have preordained. If I were to count how many people have told me they could never run a marathon, well it would be a marathon of a task itself. That feeling when you finish something you once thought impossible is the lesson that running can teach you. And although I am referring to the accomplishment of finishing a marathon, I am also addressing the microcosm that running reflects in other aspects of life.

But why are those limits in place to begin with? Some of us grow in less than ideal environments in which we are never encouraged to go beyond our expectations. Sure, we see TV shows and movies telling us we can be anything we want, but the ones that influence us the most may not always encourage that behavior. With limited goals we can never reach the stars that await our arrival. Running for long stretches of time personally teaches you these lessons that may have been overlooked during one's childhood.

But sometimes limits really are necessary, especially when safety is concerned. The security involved with this race was like a presidential arrival. Armed Guards were at every post starting at the Staten Island ferry. All bags were inspected before we could get to the waiting area. Then once again before boarding we were watched and scanned as we made our way onto the ferry. The ride itself was escorted by the Coast Guard and NYPD boats with their guns displayed and ready. After getting off the ferry we were checked again before boarding the shuttle buses that transported us to the start village. Once we got off the bus the security tightened even more. There were police dogs and police officers everywhere. It felt like a transient TSA operation. We were instructed to wait for the next available police officer to scan us with metal detector wands then frisk us and make sure we were just carrying  runners' supplies. And after the gentle grouping by New York’s finest I was warmed physically and also warmed in my heart knowing our safety was a priority here today.

These security measures continued throughout the course and I was happy to have such vigilance during the marathon. But to understand why this race was protected so intensely we have to recall the Boston tragedy that changed the way all major marathons function. That cowardly act of hurting innocent people has put a limit and restriction on the way these marathons are held. But just like our lives that have laws and moral standards, these limits shouldn’t hold us back. We should acknowledge them and learn that we can still go beyond the expectations they set. Looking at the way this marathon was being run, it would have been easier to get scared and decide not to participate in something that could be potentially dangerous. The attempt of another terrorist attack was a possibility.  And the decision of willingly putting your body through a physically demanding activity is also not for the faint of heart. Fortunately, I have some experience of pushing my body beyond its limits and with the support of the entire city of New York I knew I could face the challenges of this race. I also had another “Ace” up my sleeve. I had the opportunity to catch a Broadway show (Big Fish) while in town and one particular line had stuck with me. 

“Those who face their fears, lead the most interesting lives” – The Witch

With this encouraging advice I knew this day would be interesting to say the least. I felt a little like Edward Bloom of Big Fish at the start of this marathon. I was going to face my fears and give this marathon my all. I had been dealing with quite a bit of taper tantrums (phantom pains/panic attacks) leading up to this marathon. The fact that I was nervous had me uneasy to begin with. I am rarely nervous going into a race especially having accomplished much in the Ultra community (50k’s, Ragnar, and 50 milers). Nonetheless it was a nerve wrecking experience going into it. I was in peak marathon racing form and had no lingering injuries. So when these phantom pains struck me I grew scared that I wasn’t going to perform at my peak for this marathon. On top of that I had these small panic attacks of just sheer excitement. I was going to be running on the world’s largest stage for marathoners. I was aware that I was at the prime age of 27 where most athletes peak in their lifetime. Also, I was returning to my first road marathon since 2011 and my first competitive one since my first marathon back in 2009. And lastly, I had some friendly competition between my brother Marvin and close friend Adam going into this race. I wanted to perform well and say that I tried my best. Therefore, I had an A, B, and C goal all prepared. My C goal was to simply PR at this race and beat my old time of 3:29:39. My B goal was to BQ (Boston Qualify) and finish in under 3:05. And my A goal was to try my hardest and finish leaving everything on the course.

The marathon was under way as the 50,000 runners started their 26.2 mile journey through the 5 boroughs of New York City. As the momentum increased I took a brief second to look behind me and see the endless crowd of runners in procession running across the longest suspension bridge in America. The NYPD helicopters patrolled the skies, the Coast Guard boats watched the rivers and bays, and the runners did their running. I was quickly losing myself in the moment. It was windy on the bridge and the cloudy skies embellished us with perfect running weather. The excitement of entering Brooklyn and meeting the famous crowds of New Yorkers was driving me forward.

As the course brought me into Brooklyn I was a little shocked at how crowded the race still was. I had been told that the race never really opens up and that you will run with crowds of people for the whole race. Of course, the same had been said of the Chicago Marathon, but if you are in the faster corrals (A-C) it does open up a bit toward the end. Since I was in Wave 1 here I figured it would probably open up as well toward the end of the course. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Just as I was settling into a pace I noticed somebody wearing a Sycamore Pumpkin 10K race shirt. This was the race I had run a week ago in the town down the street from me. I was shocked and told the runner I had just ran that race last week. He was as startled as I was. He thought nobody would know where that town was, yet alone, actually have been a part of that same race too. We got to know each other for about a mile before I took off ahead. I had to laugh at the coincidence since the chances of meeting someone from down the street of where I live are extremely low. This race has the largest number of international runners and more often than not, the runners I tried to talk to would just smile since they were from another country. 

I can honestly say that everything I’ve been told about this race is true. I had heard countless people say this race is a must do. It’s on almost all the bucket lists on blogs and running magazines. They say that this race is the best in the world. I can see why they say that. The crowds are incredibly intoxicating. I started noticing the spectators getting louder the deeper we got into Brooklyn. And again the international community was noticed when various countries were represented with their flags on display by the spectators. I started running on the outside of the pack and noticed that it was an instant motivational boost as people would read my name I had written on my shirt and cheered me on. Also the amount of outstretched hands waiting to give us runners a hi-five was never on short supply. The entire course from this moment on felt like a concert. The screams and cheering from the spectators would only quell on the bridges which the spectators were not allowed access to. I was so entranced with the cheering that it really didn’t feel like I was running at all. The miles ticked by and I kept on pace. I was drinking fluids at the aid stations and eating my nutrition at the right intervals.

Once I reached the half way mark (mile 13.1) I felt a bit of sadness knowing that I was already half done with this marathon. I also was feeling the cool breeze as we crossed the second bridge and headed into Queens. Again the raucous fanfare continued throughout this borough until the next bridge. The Queensboro bridge was deceptively long. There were number signs along the bridge that must have been for vehicle traffic because looking at them increasing from 1 to 10 really didn’t make any sense. I kept wondering how high the numbers would get before the bridge ended. I knew the end of the bridge was near as I could see the brilliance of this course design up ahead. A few hundred yards ahead I could see the wall of spectators waiting to yell their lungs out to us as we entered Manhattan and the famed First Avenue.

"When you run up First Avenue in New York, if you don't get goose bumps, there's something wrong with you." - Frank Shorter
 

The quick descent off the Queensboro bridge led us right into the electric cheers from thousands of people cheering and screaming for us. I couldn’t help but feel chills, both from the encouragement and from the strong winds. I ran looking to my left and right. I still couldn’t believe how many people were out here cheering on so many complete strangers. This tugged at my heart strings again as I realized that this city is full of life. People represent life and life is wonderful. Running out here in the streets of one of the most populous cities in the world and surrounded by millions of people is an experience. Having so many individuals rooting for us and basking in all that positive energy just leaves you feeling like there is nothing you can’t do. My mind was in ecstasy and I was in love with the moment. Unfortunately, the moment wouldn’t last forever as my body would soon send a reminder that we are all human.

The long tunnel of spectators would be paused briefly as we crossed the next bridge heading into the Bronx. The Bronx was a whirlwind as the sun was coming out and the cheers were deafening with the increasing brightness. The entire borough was out and people were catching the action from their stoops, rooftops, and balconies. The next bridge brought us back into Manhattan and the long tunnel of spectators picked up right where we had last seen them. Both sides were full and I was grateful they would be there. My legs at this time decided that I wouldn’t be continuing on at a PR pace. Instead they would have a much more rewarding experience in mind. I got to mile 22 and noticed my quads would begin to twitch slightly. I eat my last gel and pushed on. My legs held together but again right at mile 23 my quads were starting to rebel again. I kept running and noticed that the more I slowed down the more the twitching would increase. I decided to keep running and hopefully push these looming cramps away. I managed to run for about another minute and felt the cramps extend into my left calf and even the bottom of my left foot. I was now running with my calf twitching and my left toes doing involuntary curls while my whole left foot was turning outward with each step. I decided I needed to slow down otherwise my entire leg might give out and I would collapse.

It’s not that I was afraid of collapsing. In fact, I went into this race planning on collapsing but with the intent on doing so after I crossed the finish line. I was upset that if I collapsed here I would need to crawl 3 miles to get to the finish. Because whatever the circumstance, there was no way that I wasn’t going to cross that finish line. As soon as I slowed my pace down the cramps immediately began to take control. I gripped my pulsating left quad and desperately tried to maintain my balance. I was trying to move over to the far left side of the course so as to not block the other runners, but I was paralyzed. I tried leaning on my right leg and then the right calf cramped up. I felt a pain I never felt before. Not being able to move my legs I just bent over on my knees and tried to massage my cramping quads. I panicked for a brief moment. It wasn't long before the magic happened. As I looked down at my fatigued legs I started feeling something incredible. I felt some pats on my back and runners waving to me as they passed me running along. That got me to look up and see them running ahead. The sun was shining and as I squinted I looked behind me to see the endless flow of runners still coming. Then I found the right component to focus my attention to. I looked to my left and saw the relentless crowds cheering for me. They called out my name and told me to keep moving. It only took a moment but I straightened up and felt a wave of confidence come over me. As I yelled and choked on more tears, I triumphantly was able to take one step. The crowd went crazy and encouraged me even more. I managed a smile and a quick wave and took another excruciating step forward. Then I took another and another until I was able to walk. I felt so entranced in the moment knowing I could finish. I also knew the next 3 miles would be a wonderful crucible of my character.

“Run the first part with your head, the middle part with your personality, and the last part with your heart.” – Mike Fanelli

Running Coach Mike Fanelli knew what he was talking about. My heart would be getting one hell of a workout the last part of this marathon. With my legs somewhat returning I was able to start running again. And again to test my character my legs gave out, this time in the opposite order. My right quad cramped up and my left calf followed. I was feeling the pain, but at the same time I loved my failure.  It was the best place to have a shutdown like I was facing. I could have broken both my ankles and I still would have finished. That crowd is dangerously powerful. Luckily I was just suffering muscle fatigue and after a few minutes of stretching I was on the move again. I continued this cycle for the next 3 miles. I would cramp up, stand still while massaging, walk a bit, jog next, and then run. Then the cycle would begin again and I would be immobilized with pain, tears, and sheer enjoyment of experiencing such catastrophe among the best environment that mankind can create. I wish I had the energy to tell those cheering fans how much they meant to me, but I’m sure they already know. They don’t call this marathon the best in the world for nothing.

I eventually made my way through Central Park and saw the “100 yards to go” sign. I looked at the clock and saw it was almost at the 4 hour mark. I decided I would beat that mark and finish strong. I transitioned from my jog to a run. The run immediately activated my cramping reflex and by the time I had 50 yards to go my left leg was completely seized up again. I wasn’t going to quit now and literally hopped on my right leg sprinting across the finish line. I managed to jump at the finish and scream with joy as I had completed the 2013 ING NYC Marathon.

The wonderful volunteers at the finish area took immediate care of me. I was in totally cramping position again. Bent over at the knees I was just smiling and wallowing in pain. I had gotten accustomed to brushing off the volunteers and medical staff along the last 3 miles telling them that I was in pain and I was hurting but I could absolutely finish. I didn’t want assistance as that would disqualify me from being an official finisher. I had even walked by a medical station at mile 25 and did my best to walk through the pain so as to not be pulled from the race. So when the volunteer was offering help here at the finish and I was refusing, it wasn’t until he reminded me that I had crossed the finish line already and his help wouldn’t disqualify me. I laughed and realized he was right. I instantly agreed to his help and placed my arm around his shoulder. He escorted me to receive my medal and found me a wheelchair. As I sat there and he helped massage my cramps away it all began to soak in. Here I was suffering more than I ever have before and I couldn’t help but look at all the other finishers and feel complete satisfaction. I had run with all my heart on that day and I had accomplished something amazing. It wasn’t my prettiest race, but I loved every second of it. The city, the volunteers, the runners, the doggies, and the crowds made that one day in the Big Apple one that I will remember forever. The NYC marathon is unlike any other marathon and I’ll leave you with the words that someone once told me: If you get the chance to run New York, do it. You won’t regret it.

I would like to thank everyone who supported me on this almost 2 year journey. Thank you to everyone who donated to my charity Cell Mates on the Run last year and for all of you who wished me luck and warm thoughts going back this year to finish what I started. A special thank you to my friends Lisa and James for coming to support us runners. A fraternal thanks to my brother for joining us on this wonderful journey, and lastly a dear thanks to Adam for initiating this entire endeavor with his lucky entry via the lottery back in 2012. 

One last note, I also decided the moment after I crossed the finish line that I would absolutely love to run this race again. So if anyone has the itch to run NYC, let me know and I might come back for the ride.

Pacing & crewing along the 2013 Burning River 100

This trip was so spontaneous that it fit perfectly with the way my summer had been going. I had been going out of town for the past three weekends and this next trip to Ohio to be a part of the Burning River 100 Mile Endurance Run was a great excuse to extend my streak to four weekends. I thought that the race was at the end of August but it was actually set for the end of July. So instead of planning for a relaxing weekend at home, I was busy packing once again for another exciting weekend. The drive was fast thanks to the engaging conversations with my friend "Ultra Joe." We spent the drive catching up since the last time we hung out at another ultra race about a year ago (The North Face Challenge 50 miler in Wisconsin). We talked about all the relay races we had done between us and about some ultra running philosophy. It's incredible how easy runners can connect by sharing different yet similar running experiences. We had both traveled an interesting journey to get to where we were now. We both had a few 50 milers under our belts and our minds were focused on the next big milestone, a 100 mile race.

                Joe had mentioned on Facebook a few months ago that he was going to run a 100 mile race. When I saw that post I immediately offered up my services as a Pacer. I was extremely thrilled that Joe was going to run his first 100 miler and I keenly wanted to be a part of that amazing experience. As fate would have it, Joe would not be running the race due to a high ankle sprain he had sustained a few days before the race. At first, I contemplated taking his bib and running the race myself, but that was an absurd idea since mentally, I was not ready to run my first 100 miles on a whim. You have to respect the distance and this wasn’t one of those fun runs in the city that you could easily do with a hangover (See Chicago Half Marathon 2011). Joe was pretty upset he wouldn’t be running but thanks to my encouragement he was still willing to come out and volunteer for the race. That way he could get a good feel for what the course and environment of a 100 mile race would be like. I also loved the idea of tagging along to see some of the runners cross the finish line and witness their moment of incredible bliss.

                So it was agreed we would head toward the packet pickup and see if we could arrange some sort of volunteer position that would allow us to jump around the race and not limit ourselves to be stationed at one place. We arrived and Joe began explaining his situation to the people working the packet pickup. He had made it a point to say since he had paid for the race, he might as well pick up his swag which actually was a pretty nice Mountain Hardwear backpack. While mingling with other runners we overheard this skinny young kid talking about running his first 100 miler. His name was Devon and he looked so excited to be here. We asked if he had a pacer or a crew and he sort of grinned and answered plainly, “no.” I couldn’t believe it and instantly thought this kid was never going to finish the race tomorrow. While talking this kid Devon we also spoke to Tap who was the volunteer coordinator for the race. Tap is a pretty lady with a special charisma who has run several Ultras herself. She would become the catalyst that would bind our paths with Devon’s. She immediately liked the suggestion we threw out about pacing and crewing for Devon. She said it was a fantastic idea and gave us lots of information about the aid stations and names of the aid station captains. Joe and I talked it over quickly and we decided we would definitely help this young 24 year old run his first 100 mile race. 

The packet pick up had some tasty refreshments

                I grew excited that I would be able to get a run in this weekend and actually see some of the course too. We spent the night with Devon getting to know him a little better and eating some pizza for dinner. After enjoying a delicious Yuengling beer we went to Devon’s hotel and he let us crash in his room. I had brought a sleeping bag and blankets with the intention of camping so we were comfortable sprawling out on the floor and letting Devon get his rest. The humming coming from the mini fridge didn’t keep us up too late and we all got to sleep eventually. The morning came quickly as Devon was up at 2:15am and gearing up. He was going to take an early shuttle and we would be meeting him later at the first aid station.

My view waking up

                When we got to the first aid station (Squire’s castle) Joe and I walked over to the picturesque castle sitting on a small hilltop. The first runners would be coming through soon so we got into position and waited for Devon. We saw Tap while we were waiting and she handed us some volunteer shirts and reminded us that we were free to jump around all day and should anyone gave us grief, just mention her name. We thanked her and soon saw the first runners starting to come through. We saw Devon coming in fast close behind the lead pack and took his headlamp that he wouldn’t need for another 12 hours or so. Devon was moving fast and I began to get worried for two reasons.  One, I was thinking he was going too fast and would crash hard later in the race and possibly not finish. Second, maybe he is just a fast runner and I began to worry I might not be able to pace him if he is running that fast when I join up with him at mile 55. I didn’t want to be left behind and felt nervous about keeping up with this kid. I was reassured by Joe that I would be fine and would have no problem keeping pace with Devon. He reminded me that after 55 miles of running his pace would definitely be slower. That helped reassure me and I also rationalized that we had seen him running on a flat surface and when I would be with him we would be in the trails with lots of inclines and declines. I put my worries aside and we left toward the next aid station.

               

Squire's Castle

 We got to the next aid station and again saw Devon cruising through keeping a fast pace and closing in on the top 10. We gave him some more cheers and after greeting Peg “the mannequin leg” we drove off to the next aid station. Joe brought up a point around this time. He noticed how similar our day was going in comparison to a relay race. It was in fact true, as we were consistently scrambling to get to the next aid station and managing our way across roads we were unfamiliar with. The only difference was that we didn’t have to run once we reached the next aid station. Instead we helped cheer and support runners along the course. When Joe and I arrived to the aid station at mile 18 we stuck around for a while lending our ultra experience to the other volunteers. After successfully demonstrating how to help ultrarunners with instructions and guidance, the first-time volunteers got the hang of it. We left and kept going to keep up with Devon.

                We decided to jump ahead in the course a bit and wait for Devon at Egbert Shelter, around the 50K mark (31 miles). Our plan was to get there as soon as possible and take a power nap. We figured we had about a good hour and a half before Devon would show up. Both Joe and I were feeling tired not having eaten much the whole morning. We pulled into the park area and saw a few cars and a table set up. We saw the path that the runner’s would be coming in from and felt confident we were at the right spot. We parked, cracked the windows a bit, and reclined the seats. I put my cowboy hat over my face to block the light and quickly went to sleep. In what felt like minutes later, I jolted awake and looked at Joe who was startled by my jump. Joe said we had taken about a good 45 min nap. I got out of the car and suddenly felt lost. The cars that were around us before were all gone now. The table where the volunteers were set up was gone too. I went toward a shed that had some bathrooms and saw a group of teenagers huddled there to avoid the drizzling rain. I approached them and asked if they were volunteering for Burning River. They said no and that they had just finished their cross country workout. Joe and I figured we parked in the wrong area, so we hastily got back in the car and drove further into the park. A couple turns later we found the aid station. We parked and noticed the intensity of the rainfall was increasing. 

The rain picking up

        

  Again, I started to worry about my pacing duties. I had never run an ultra in heavy rain. What new curve balls would I have to deal with? I brought this concern up to Joe and again, with his sage like wisdom, he comforted me. He told me I could try putting body glide on my feet to help prevent blisters from the guaranteed wet shoes I would be running in. I had never tried that since I have been extremely fortunate to have hardly dealt with blisters in my running career. They say not to try anything new on race day, but lucky for me, I was only pacing today. 

                The aid station at Egbert Shelter was very well managed. Mike, the Aid Station Captain had the station running smoothly. He was authoritative and got people to listen to him and do what he said. His main concern was for the benefit of the runners. As an ultrarunner himself he clearly understood the importance of placing the runner’s needs as top priority. Joe and I happily found a spot to help and soon saw the first runner’s coming in. Tap arrived with Gavin (her son) and told us she had seen Devon at the last aid station and he was still looking good. Sure enough Devon came through looking intense and determined. He was in and out of the aid station stopping only to refill his bottles. He was quickly back on the course with 69 more miles to go. Joe and I stuck around at the aid station helping a while longer. After I ate some pizza that was leftovers from the night before, we got on the move.

Meeting the locals while volunteering

                Before we left we got directions from Tap to the aid station that I would be joining Devon to pace him. Tap’s directions were perfect. Unfortunately, she gave us directions to the wrong aid station. After getting in touch with her she apologized and led us to the right one. Tap was very busy this day checking on all the aid stations and doing her duties as the volunteer coordinator. It was impressive how well she was running things and able to help us get around during the race. So her one mistake was easily forgivable.

We got to the right aid station at Boston Store and it looked very simple. It was an open grassy lot with only a few tents. It was still raining at a good rate and the tent’s canopies would spill the built up rain water occasionally. Tap started preparing the sign-in sheet for the pacers while I went to change. I donned my running clothes and did all the prep needed for an ultra (Band-aids on nipples, Vaseline everywhere, gel’s stocked, handheld full, etc.) including positioning my brand new AK Buff. My good friend Adam has a man-crush on Anton Krupicka, so he bought his special line of buffs and gave one to me. The AK Buff is basically a head wrap that has multiple ways of wearing it. I wore it in the headband style and with it on, I felt invincible. It’s similar to the way a basketball player would feel wearing a new pair or Jordan’s.

              

Ready to pace

  I stood under one of the tents talking to some of the volunteers and learning a little bit more about Ohio. Some of the lead runners passed through and one had even dropped from the race. This aid station was at mile 55.5. I would be pacing Devon for the next 20-30 miles depending on how it went. I was still a little worried that if I stuck with Devon for the rest of the race I might be a burden and slow him down. I had told him I would see how the run goes and decide when to drop back later in the race.

                By the time Devon came in he was in 8^th place. This was the main focus of my concern. If this kid was running in the top ten, how the hell would I keep up him? But, I was also fueled by the feeling of excitement because there was a chance he might actually win it. And to be a part of that was all the energy I needed to keep up with him. Joe gave me some last minute pep talk and reminded me to stay positive and keep Devon moving. We planned for Joe to crew for us for the next few hours. He agreed but acknowledged he would have a tougher time navigating the course solo. We had a good system going prior to this point where I would be the navigator and Joe would be the driver. Now he would be working twice as hard to make sure he found the next aid stations and to help crew us.

                Devon and I took off from Boston Store after he had his bottles refilled and a few calories taken in. We left with cheers from Tap, Joe, and Gavin. As we started on the trail, I immediately felt a jolt of energy. I was excited and needed to control myself. I didn’t want to force a pace on Devon that he couldn’t handle. I was containing my speed and converted it into positive energy instead. Devon was glad to see me knowing I’d be keeping him company for a while. I gave him some updates on the field and how our day had been going. When we hit the single track trail I got into position behind him to let him lead the pace. We reached a good hill and Devon began the first of many apologizes about his speed. Since, we had just met less than 24 hours ago we really didn’t know each others' speed. On top of that, this was Devon’s first 100 mile race and I had no clue how fast he expected to run. I told him not to worry about his speed and just keep moving. Devon mentioned how power hiking with swinging his arms may look funny, but it helps. I agreed and would continuously remind him during the rest of the race to swing his arms to help mount these hills. Once we reached the top we got to some road and then into some technical trails. I was having a blast running alongside Devon in the rain.

I wound up running behind Devon and kept an eye on him. At the beginning I was impressed that this kid had run 55 miles and was still having the speed to charge down on the descents. He would literally pull away from me on the down hills and I would have to hustle to catch up to him. Of course, when he hit the up hills I was right behind him. A few times I had to watch my footing as I came close to stepping on his heels. I kept going over the check list Joe had given me about pacing duties. I was to stay positive, keep the runner moving, and most importantly, I was never to ask how he was doing or felt. The main reason was that I would be able to tell just by looking at him. Also I didn’t need to remind him of how terrible he might be feeling if he was in a rough patch. So instead I talked about different things. I asked about his family and talked about mine. I was also conscious of not talking too much. I didn’t want to get annoying and figured I’d just see how the run went.

The time and the miles started ticking by and the rain would come and go. It was cloudy but still light enough to see out in the trails. The tree cover we were in wasn’t too thick and the wildlife wasn’t shy either. We saw plenty of deer and Devon even mentioned he came within a few feet of a Buck earlier on the course. I was enjoying the moment and still excited to be a part of the magic involved with a 100 mile race. We reached the next aid station at Pine Lane and the volunteers there were very helpful. They had a few drinks and snack choices since this wasn’t a big aid station. There were a few aid stations that were minimal because getting to the area for their set up was not an easily accessible point as some of the other aid stations that lie off of a main road. Devon filled his bottles and I filled mine with half water and half Heed. Heed is an electrolyte drink and was a new favorite of mine since having tried it recently. I wanted to help Devon as much as possible so I told him if he wanted some of my drink just to let me know. The volunteers offered a dry shirt for Devon to change into, and I could tell that he sort of wanted to, but didn’t want to waste any time. Devon thanked them anyway and we took off.

The trails were beautiful on the course. Devon was more focused on the clumps and roots along the trail but I was able to take a few glances to my right and left. All the while I kept thinking that this is incredible. I was in disbelief that Devon was running 100 miles. As an ultrarunner myself, I can understand the pain and dedication required to run 50 miles. But to run 100 miles was something completely foreign to me. I felt like I was a minor league player running and gunning right next to a major league player. And yet, it’s like they say about celebrities when you meet them, they really are just regular people. I was trying to contain my excitement and focus on supporting Devon. I had an important job and I couldn’t get too distracted. I needed to be attentive and also take care of myself. My fears of not keeping up or worse, getting injured, were enough to keep me focused. I was making note that Devon was regularly eating a gel, a salt tablet, and drinking water. It amazed me how little food he was actually eating. He was relying on his gels for calories and this is when I had an epiphany.

I had gotten into the habit during my ultra runs of eating gels but also mixing it up with real food. I would eat granola bars, avocados, oranges, potatoes, and the rest of the usual ultrarunning food choices. But what I was learning was that if my gut can handle eating just gels, then I had less to worry about in terms of my nutrition. Not only would this save space and time, but most gels have a kick of caffeine that comes in handy. It’s funny how a half marathoner would think this as a no-brainer, but once you run ultra distances you try new things and sometimes forget some of the simple aspects of racing. Essentially, when it comes to my experience I had only seen what it takes to finish these ultra races. What I was witnessing here was how to race competitively at one of these ultra races. It got me fired up and brought to life my subdued competitive spirit. Watching Devon run hard on the descents and creek crossings showed me I can run hard while running long distances. Seeing his resilience brought to mind something ultra legend Kilian Jornet had said during an interview.

“… when you run for 20-30 hours the strongest muscles are not the legs, the strongest muscle is the mind. So don’t think about the pain because the pain is there and you don’t need to remind yourself.” –Kilian Jornet

By realizing that pain is part of the process, you learn there is no need to prolong it. I had learned that after you are out there for 8-9 hours, it hurts just as bad going slow as going fast. So why not end the pain faster and pick up your feet. Devon was doing just that. He was already battling his mind and trying to finish as fast as he could. He would give himself little pep talks and had me smiling when he blurted out, “This is crazy!” I was happy for him and taking in his experience knowing full well, that that might be me one day.

We came into Ledges Shelter (mile 65) next and saw Joe right away. He was holding watermelon and extra batteries for our headlamps. This was where we would pick up our lights to prepare for the coming night. We still had a good four more hours of daylight, but with the overcast skies it was a precautionary adjustment. Tap and Gavin were on hand too and they gave Devon tons of support. I was talking with Joe and he had plenty of advice too. Again Devon was staying on track and left the aid station quickly not wanting to waste too much time there. We refilled our bottles and got moving.

Back on the trails Devon began telling me how this experience of suffering is why he was out here. He had paid good money to come out here and test himself. I’m sure he blurted this out because he had been asking himself in his mind why he was out here in the first place. I reassured him he was out here for a good reason and that he was doing something amazing. He would be accomplishing something people don’t even believe is possible. He was out here living his dreams and all he had to do was keep putting one foot in front of the other.

The trails along this part of the course were grandiose. I understood why they called this area the ledges. Walls of cavernous rock were carved out and exposed, well, ledges. The geomorphic transformations that occurred thousands of years ago were visible along the trail. We also reached a point where there were stairs carved along the rock and it was very steep. I was thinking to myself that these stairs were hard to climb myself, let alone for someone who had already been running for 65 miles! This again was another source of empowerment for me. I had already run 10 miles with Devon and it felt like I had run three. Any moment I felt the least bit tired I would look at Devon and it would instantly wash away. Feeling this good I knew I would be sticking with him for more of his journey.

We got to the next small aid station at Pine Hollow and I could sense Devon’s frustration. I wasn’t sure if he was upset that this aid station wasn’t well stocked or if it was just a rough patch he was going through. We didn’t stay long again and started running once more. The next aid station coming up would be where Joe would be waiting. While on the leg there, Devon stopped for a moment. It was in this moment I felt completely useless. He was trying to fish out a rock in his shoe and there was literally nothing I could do. I could have offered to remove his shoe, but that would have taken too much time and the one thing Devon had on his mind was to finish this race as soon as possible. As if this helplessness moment wasn’t bad enough, I noticed a mistake I had made. When we had picked up the headlamps I took Devon’s extra batteries and placed them in one of my back pockets of my shorts. While we were stopped I checked to see if they were still in place, and they were not. They must have fallen out of my pocket during the run. I panicked for a moment and didn’t say a word to Devon. I was ashamed and felt like a letdown. As we got moving again I was planning on how to break the news to him. Luckily before I did I thought of a solution. Since I had my headlamp with me, I wouldn’t use it and just give him my batteries should he need them. It was also during this time that I was consistently asking Devon if he wanted a sip from my bottle with the Heed mix. After the fourth or fifth time of him saying no, I simply asked him if he wanted me to stop asking that same question. He gave me a firm “yes” and I understood not to keep bugging him about it.

We rolled into the next aid station at mile 73 and Joe was there waiting with some delicious watermelon. I refilled our bottles as Devon got some calories in him. Gavin was in the crowd and went to fetch his mom. The volunteers and Tap were doing their best to get Devon anything he needed. I was busy refilling bottles, grabbing extra gels, and a baggie with some Vaseline in it. Once I was ready, I caught up to Devon who was already walking ahead and striving to keep moving. As we were walking and ready to get moving again, Devon mentioned that it was getting extremely difficult to start moving after leaving the aid stations. He also said that everyone was asking him too many questions. He was definitely agitated and I don’t blame him. When running alone for 12+ hours in silence the runner gets accustomed to the silence. Then, when they enter an aid station they get bombarded with people and it can be overwhelming, especially when the runner is tired and exhausted. This was all valuable information for me to digest and made me appreciate being out here even more. I did my best staying positive and brought up the fact that the area we were in was nicknamed “Little House on the Prairie” because it looked like those beautiful rolling hills seen on that show. Devon gave me a grunt and we got moving again.

Grinding it out and maintaining movement

The next section had a few stream crossings and more thick mud. We had run over some thick sections and with the consistent drizzle of rain the rest of the course would remain the same. Just as we were about to enter another single track trail a beautiful gazelle of a woman came running out. She was jaw dropping with a hot pink top, short black shorts, and short pigtails. I don’t recall what we said to her but it was probably something like “Hey” or "Hiya.” As soon as she appeared she was gone. Both Devon and I were speechless. What was a hottie like her doing here randomly running some trails? I asked Devon if he had seen her too. He said he did and I told him that was good. It was good because it meant we weren’t hallucinating if we both saw her. That girl had lifted both our spirits and she had done it with just one brief passing.

The course led us along some road and we started hearing some loud booming. It sounded like a shotgun going off in the distance. I joked with Devon telling him that they were picking off the slow runners and that we ought to hurry it along. We would have liked to pick it up since it was relatively flat on this section, the problem was that it was also a thick mess. It was frustrating knowing we could run fast on the flat sections, but because they were so muddy it resulted in us just plodding along and trying not to break an ankle. This is also where Devon surprised me again. He was talking about how much he was struggling and asked me how I was feeling. It threw me off guard because I hadn’t been thinking about myself much at all. I instantly replied that I was doing great and that everything felt fine for me. All the nervous feelings I had before resulted in a perfect outcome for me. Like I said before, whenever I felt fatigued, one look at Devon was I all I needed to get me rejuvenated.

After making our way through a mucky cornfield we arrived to the next aid station. This was Covered Bridge (mile 79) and Joe had warned me about this section. Joe told me that it could resemble a battle zone with numerous cots and people laying on them. It was also a point in which many people drop from the race because they stop and just refuse to get up. Fortunately, since Devon was so far up in the field there were no bodies laying around. Again Tap, Joe, Gavin, and the rest of the volunteers did phenomenal helping Devon. Tap even paced with us for almost half a mile leading out of the aid station telling us about the rest of the course coming up. She warned us that there would be some tough hills. After climbing over some moderate hills I joked to Devon that Tap was wrong and those hills weren’t so bad. Of course after I said that we hit the hill she must have been talking about. It was a tough climb and had us hiking it all the way up.

Joe with the watermelon and Gavin in the back supporting Devon

On our way off the hills I knew my pacing duties would be coming to an end. Tap had suggested she could continue pacing for Devon the rest of the way after the next aid station. I agreed with that and would keep going until then. This is where some confusion came into play. The next aid station we got to was an unmanned one with one volunteer working. He had the cooler that Joe had been using for storing the watermelon with its contents intact. I was confused and decided to keep running with Devon since nobody was there to pick me up. On our way out we thanked the volunteer and just his presence there made me feel happy. I’m sure Devon felt the same knowing this older man was out here supporting solo because he cares about the runners. That compassion can catch you off guard and it really hit me how much love goes into this sport.

The course took us along more roads and then a bit more sluggish single track. We saw two young girls placing signs on the trail and soon we came out to a clearing. We had arrived to the next aid station at Howe Meadow (mile 86). I was feeling more confused when we arrived as our crew wasn’t here either. I decided to stay here and let Devon keep moving rather than having him wait while I figured things out. I told him to just keep moving and I’d see him later on. He seemed totally fine with that and thanked me for sticking around as long as I did. I saw him off and then proceeded to find someone with a phone who had Tap’s number. One of the volunteers did and I called her right away. She explained they were held up and would be here soon. I got a chance to sit down and take my wet, muddy shoes off. I was in disbelief how well I had just run a 50K with so little preparation. Normally I would have a lot more nutrition and other gear. I usually wear calf sleeves and noticed I didn’t need them at all. Again, I was grateful to be here and learning so much. I learned I didn’t need extra socks or shoes and that when you are out here racing, you need to just run. I put that into my mind and waited patiently for Tap and Joe.

They arrived and I jumped into the car and explained why I left Devon. I thought it was best to update Tap and Joe via a phone call then to keep running with Devon and leave them in the dark as to where he was and his condition. If I kept running they would have completely missed us at this aid station and possible the next few ones not knowing where we would be. They understood and we got back on track heading to the next aid station to wait for him. While waiting for Devon Tap was getting ready to pace him while Joe and I caught up a bit. He explained to me how those loud booms we heard earlier were actually air cannons to keep birds away from the crops. I laughed and told him how they got Devon and I spooked and got us moving faster.

Devon arrived and looked just like how I left him, tired but resilient. We refilled his bottle and Tap took off with him. We looked around and noticed Gavin was still with us. Apparently we would be his guardians for the next few hours until his mom would rejoin us. We decided to head toward the finish area and get some food. Joe hadn’t eaten much all day and I was really hungry too after running. I had completed my pacing duties and wouldn’t be running anymore so I could indulge my gut and eat up. We found a convenient pub right by the finish line and walked in. While enjoying the meal and talking about what we had seen throughout the day, Gavin interrupted us with an important update. His mom Tap had called and apparently Devon had gotten a surge and left her behind. That meant we had to pick her up from the last aid station. We would be cutting it close to possibly missing Devon cross the finish line as we hurried our way to back track.

We quickly got to the aid station where Tap was and got her in the car. She was so funny describing how he just left her and didn’t wait at all. He was determined to finish and finish fast. We made it back to the finish line and as we were getting out of the car we saw Devon. The finish line was in a town square and had one major street crossing between it. There were road guards and they happily stopped traffic as we cheered and followed behind Devon as he crossed the line to finish his first 100 mile race in 7^th place.  

The kid did it. He ran 100 miles along the Burning River. And finishing right after him was ultra legend Connie Gardner. Connie is a local runner that has an impressive record and quite a bit of 1^st place finishes herself. It was pretty awesome seeing Devon beat a champion and on his first try at this distance. I congratulated him and even pretended to be interviewing him just like Brian Powell of irunfar, the ultra community’s version of ESPN.

What a trip this was. One that cemented my desire to one day be a 100 miler. The Burning River 100 brought together some old friends and some new ones too. The ultra community never ceases to amaze me with the unified effort and support that goes into a race of this caliber. I was more than satisfied with the way the day had turned out. I had learned a ton and got my heart into the “racing” part of ultra running. My hippie running days would be put aside as I got the spark to run fast and see what I’m really capable of. Next on my race calendar would be a 50 mile trail race in Hell Michigan. Hell, after what I just saw, it should be a piece of cake. (see DWD Hell 50 miler recap)

Some day...

Chicago Marathon 2013 Volunteer Recap

The Chicago Marathon reflects a unique human experience along a journey of 26.2 miles. The capacity of the human heart reveals itself to those running along the streets of Chicago on this special day in October. Before the first sight of dawn, volunteers and workers are already busy setting up aid stations and course markings. Among this crowd were a few of my friends. Some were volunteering for their first time, and others for their twentieth. This day would be my fourth time volunteering at aid station #1. Ever since I ran my first marathon here in Chicago back in 2009 I’ve been back every year. I promised myself that as long as I lived in the area I would always be a part of this race. Whether my role is as a runner, volunteer, or spectator, I can’t bring myself to miss out on this magical day in the Windy City.

Five years I’ve been in the throes of the Chicago Marathon, and every time I still get chills. Watching the runners or being one of them, the effort involved is remarkable. The communication between the runners and those of us cheering them on is usually brief. Even so, there is much conveyed in those small moments when smiles are exchanged, high fives are given, or when two sets of eyes lock on to each other and much more is revealed then could ever be said. The excitement is contagious. The energy is electric. The people are amazing. This is the Spirit of the Marathon.

Aid Station #1 during set-up

Mixing that tasty Gatorade

The enjoyable frenzy that builds during the aid station set-up is wonderful. Everyone is as helpful as can be. Those who are familiar with the process are able to get things moving. That said, as a semi-pro volunteer, I rallied our Gatorade side of the street into action. I got the Gatorade jugs spread out along the street and began mixing the concentrates with water. Alternating between mixing the Gatorade in the jugs, opening gallons, and cutting bottles for makeshift pitchers, I was a busy bee. My friend “P” was happy to be volunteering for the first time and seeing her excitement added another charge of enthusiasm that helped the morning rush. Thanks to my experience and quick initiative to get the tables and Gatorade ready, we were finished setting up rather early. Arriving at 4:30am and working fastidiously we were all done and ready for the runners by 6:45am. The first runners wouldn’t be arriving for almost an hour at 7:37am. The volunteer captain Pat Onines even said that in all his years (20+) working this aid station he had never seen it set up so quickly. We had some time to chat and mingle with the other volunteers and I really enjoyed hearing about P’s first marathon. P had run her first marathon here in Chicago when she was only 16 years old. It surprised me not only because she ran it at a young age, but that she had such fond memories of that race even though she struggled tremendously to finish. That story of hers perfectly complimented a tweet I had seen earlier on twitter.

“It’s not the fastest, effortless run that defines you. It’s the run that you fight hard with to finish that etches character.” –Jen Benna

This day there would be close to 40,000 runners that would embody that same quote. Those lucky folks were ready to put themselves through pain for 26.2 miles. I could hardly wait to see them at mile 1.6 where I would have plenty of Gatorade to offer them. I would also gladly offer inspiration and motivation as best as my vocal chords would allow. The runners began running by and the onslaught of yelling and cheering began.

Runners on State street at mile 1.6

Once we ran out of Gatorade at my table we began offering high fives and more shouts of encouragement. After both waves of runners had gone through we cleaned up the mountainous piles of discarded cups in the streets with shovels and rakes. The street sweepers would be coming through soon and we would then be out of a job. I split up from my friends that were volunteering with me and went on to do my second duties of the day.

P handing out high fives

My second shift of the day was to run with my brother Marvin and other friends for a brief section of the race to get their spirits up and keep them running strong. I love doing this because where I see them at is precisely where most runners struggle and hit “the wall.” It takes a little coordination logistically and a patient eye to see them on the course and run alongside them for a little while. I got to mile 16ish via the “El” and ran into another friend, Betty, happily crewing and waiting for her friends running in the race. It was cool running into Betty and briefly catching up while we both were keeping our eyes on the course for our friends. It didn’t take long and I soon saw my brother. I said bye to my friend and joined my brother for a brief mile or two. After pacing with Marvin I was extremely happy that he was enjoying the race. He mentioned that he was loving the crowd’s energy and was even waving back and cheering with them too. It gave me goose bumps seeing him have such a good time. I felt like I was looking at a mirror knowing that his attitude at this moment was precisely how I love to feel when racing. I left him alone with the other 40,000 runners to enjoy their moment. I waited patiently for my next friends.

I ran with two more friends briefly and got ready to run with another good friend, Omar, who loves the neighborhood that lies next on the course, Pilsen. I saw him coming toward me and noticed he was looking down at the ground. I instinctively crouched low to catch his gaze. He saw me and as I stood up I could see his gaze and posture lift right up. Also a telltale sign was that he had a big smile emerging on his face. That got me smiling as I got right next to him. We chatted a bit and got into a rhythm. We didn’t say too much once we hit the crowds in Pilsen and it was perfect. The crowd had plenty to say and I was happy to be sharing the experience with Omar again for another year. Just running along the streets and seeing the other runners sharing the moment is what I love about the marathon.

Omar heading into Pilsen

It really doesn’t matter what your background is, when you are running a marathon, you are running with nature. The essence of exercising is at the core of the marathon, but when it is done collectively it brings such a flood of feelings that it really is unparallel. Sharing that moment creates a bond with those around you. Many people overlook the fact that the marathon is the only human activity in which thousands of people are essentially migrating together as a pack. One of the most captivating habits shared by other animals on this planet is only duplicated during a marathon. So if you have ever stopped and gazed at a flock of birds, a herd of wild horses, or a pod of dolphins and been mesmerized by it, that feeling of being one member in those groups and being aware of it, is undeniably incredible.

I left Omar to continue on his race and found a great section to wait for my next friends. I was seated on a median that was in the middle of a bridge. I had runners going by me on both sides. As I sat there cheering and gazing at the runners I couldn’t wish to be anywhere else. The day was perfect and I literally could have sat there the rest of the day and been completely happy. This is also where I received the most “thank yous” from the runners. It is so simple a gesture but whenever I see a runner struggling I immediately try to lock eyes with them and tell them to keep going. I know how uplifting a little motivation can be from a complete stranger. Seeing a runner walking and giving them enough encouragement to pick up their feet and start running again is absolutely the best feeling as a spectator. It’s as if I’m gently pushing on their back and letting them know their journey is tough, but definitely within their grasp.

The view from the perfect perch

As I was sitting and cheering on the bridge I decided that I had done my part today for the marathon. It was time for me to regroup with my friends who I had been volunteering with from earlier. I took one last look at the marathoners and smiled. I’d undoubtedly be back next year to relive the magic that is offered on Marathon Day in Chicago.