I’m still on First Avenue, I keep looking up to see the hordes of crowds and focus on a red brick tower in the distance. I know Adam is there with hugs, support and water. My energy is low, I’ve hit the wall in previous races so know what that feels like. This isn’t it, this is just tiredness – mental and physical. My body starts to ache. I know from experience that within a mile my body will flush with its own painkillers and the ache will dull.
I am a block away from Adam. I see him in the distance and make a bee-line for the pavement. He hugs me and hands me my water and my energy gel. We chat briefly although I am too tired to string much of a sentence together. He taps my bum with the England and British flags he has been carrying, “go on then, keep going”. It hurts, really hurts, my muscles are tender to the slightest movement. We kiss and I jog onward (knowing that he’ll pay for that bum tap later!).
Another few blocks and we cross the bridge to the Bronx. The crowds here are smaller, there is a different atmosphere from the previous districts. The crowds are thinner but more excited. There are less banners and more people who are going about their own business and making cheers as they pass. There is a camera and big screen and I wave again as if Megz were watching.
We take a few sharp turns and the wide roads make the running crowd look sparse. We hit the bridge in to Manhattan within two miles of arriving in the Bronx. The energy gel has kicked in and I feel stronger, I still hold back to enjoy Fifth Avenue and keep something in the tank for the finish.
I meet Adam again with another drink and gel at mile 22. We hug and I’m more chatty this time. We debate how long until I finish. I explain I will be slowing down for Central Park to really enjoy the finishing atmosphere. I’m mentally stronger for seeing him. I’m physically stronger for the water and gel. But I’m 22 miles in to a marathon, I’m still tricking my own body in to those last four miles by not thinking about them.
The last few miles are always the slowest. Legs become like lead weights. Thoughts don’t stay long and mental capacity is low. We run in to the park and the crowds are dense like First Avenue. They are loud and have narrowed in an attempt to see their loved ones pass. I count. I do this when I am tired and things get tough. Paula Radcliffe will count to 400 and a mile will pass. I’m not that fast but by the time I’ve counted to two hundred, I’ve been distracted and forgotten how many hundreds I’m at. I’ll then count backwards to really distract myself. Then add up to 100 and back again in sevens. Central Park is beautiful, the autumn leaves are oranges, reds and browns. The crowds echo around the trees and every turn they become louder and denser. As we turn at the end of the park, crowds don’t just cheer, they chant ‘keep it going’, ‘beer at the end’, ‘you can do it’, ‘almost there’, ‘you’re amazing’. I’m trying so hard but have to slow to a walk in those last two miles, just for a short time. My shoulders are starting to hurt beyond anything else. I am used to some pain, usually muscle aching like lifting a weight a few too many times, I can overcome that. I’m also used to running with a stitch in my side when going out too soon after food or when sprint work gets too much. But this is sharp pain in my shoulders. My sports bra is tight over my shoulders and the momentum and tension in my arms is causing stabbing pains in my upper back.
I walk for a minute in that last mile. This seems to get the crowd roaring, ‘keep it up’, ‘you’re almost there, don’t walk yet’, ‘be strong’. I run, I don’t want to, nothing in me wants to, but I do.
I turn the corner for the last half mile. I look up and in front of me is the rhino. The very man I’d sat on the bus chatting with hours before. The cheers for him are deafening. I decide that after my caterpillar incident at Hyde Park, I will not be beaten to the finish line of New York marathon by the foam rhino. Everything else around me disappears. There is darkness around, just the rhino, me and that finish line (and my dignity).
I dig deep, image the finish and push for the last time. I chant to myself ‘do it for megz’ as I overtake the rhino. He is raising his hands in the air and enjoying his moment of glory. I keep up the pace as hard as I can, not wanting to have my finish line picture one of defeat by a rhino.
I don’t look back, I can’t, everything I have left is in this moment. I push for the finish line, it still feels slow, my legs are stiff and it feels like I am running pigeon steps through treacle. There are stands either side of the last 50 yards and I look up at the screaming supporters.
I cross the line, I tried to smile but it was more of a grimace. I slow to a walk and my legs buzz and tingle. They know it is ok to stop now and my steps are small as they tense up desperate to sit down. It is the worst thing I could do thou as moving again after rest right now would only add to the pain later. I shuffle with the crowds for half a mile. A man puts a medal around my neck and congratulates me. I am handed water, a food bag, a silver blanket and shuffle with a crowd like herded sheep to collect my bag.
Once I get out of the park and head to the meeting point to find Adam I pick up my walking pace. I try to lengthen my stride but my legs won’t let me. They are tightened already and it feels like someone is pushing back on each step. I try to walk, drink Gatorade and eat the free pretzels at the same time while pushing through crowds of people waiting for runners – not moving to let anyone else by, the only way to get passed is to try and squeeze through. Not easy when you’re tired and wobbly.
Adam and me have decided to meet outside I liquor store two blocks away. I see him and we hug. He congratulates me and helps me to put warm clothes on. I rattle off my stories as we head in to the shop for champagne….
Runcazrun's Blog 