In case you want the background story to this three part series, you can read part one or part two as you please.
If you’ve never seen it before, this is what 47,000 people racing the NY Marathon looks like. I’ll never forget when my high school coach first showed me a photo like this. I was like “WTF?!?!?! How do you run?!” Photo from Women Talk Sports
Control
The pack spreads out almost instantly as we climb the first mile up the Verezzano-Narrows Bridge and I settle back into a controlled pace. I had hoped the pack would start more conservatively like last year, (giving me at least a couple miles to feel the thrill of running with the leaders,) but they take off. According to my watch, my first two miles are 5:53 and 5:15. The goal was to average 5:45 for the two, but I’ve run too fast up one side of the bridge and too fast down the other side. Less than two minutes later on flat terrain, I get a stomach cramp. 24 miles to go. Sweet.
The third mile I run much much slower, belly breathing and massaging my stomach, remembering there is a long way to go. But the cramp gets worse. I debate stopping and rubbing it out. Instead I reach into my sports bra and unzip the old Picky Bar bag that is living its second life as an emergency liquid antacid stash and attempt to pour it in my mouth, but half of it catches the breeze and blows across my face. Hopefully its enough.
I hit the 5k mark, take my first water bottle, and the cramp disappears. Relief and optimism flood in with my electrolyte drink. American Molly Pritz pulls up by my side and we begin what would become the best 12 mile run of my life.
The Scenery
NY Marathon is famous for the energy of its crowds, but since the pro women start 30 minutes before the other 47,000 participants, everywhere we go there is a feeling that we are a bit early for the party, the hosts still mixing the guacamole and figuring out where the guests will put their coats. Nonetheless we run past grunge cover bands, curious families, church choirs, a community of Hasidic Jews, DJ’s. There are moments I notice the strangest details around me but there are far more miles that simply pass by in a blissful blur.
My legs are locked into a rhythm and my body flows freely. Molly and I chat a bit here and there and giggle appreciatively when fans scream our names. I pat myself on the back for how conservative we are running and start plotting the logistics of when I’ll make my big move…10k to go? Wait for a little final 5k smack-down?
The Beginning of the End
And then…THEN…the freaking Queensboro Bridge. This long, lonely, barren, dark, concrete covered, windy, solitary, stupid bridge. My heart-rate skyrockets as we head up the first minute of the bridge’s incline. Its clear I’m working much harder than Molly so I let her go and run within myself the rest of the way up the hill. After FINALLY cresting the top, I attempt to float down the other side but my feet seem to be smacking the pavement rather than springing back. This is the first sign of wear but the rest of me feels refreshed after the downhill as I work back into my groove up 1st Ave.
The road is incredibly wide and lined with screaming spectators and I can see at least four of my competitors spaced out in front of me over the course of the next mile. Despite having six road lanes to choose from, we all run in a single-file line in the footsteps of whoever came before us, preferring not to think for ourselves.
I see mile 19 and take note that I’m not thinking very clearly anymore. It’s a subtle change, but I’m thinking less and less about passing people and more about the basics of survival: water stops, fueling opportunities. I attempt to refocus by running through an inventory of my body: heart, lungs, core, legs…all still working pretty well. I’m no spring chicken by any means, but I’m still clipping along. I tell myself to forget everything that has come before this. Take the edge off. Don’t worry about time. Pretend you are just going out for a brisk 7 mile run back in Eugene, like you do almost every day. You’ve run tired many times before.
The Wall
I don’t know why I’m smiling at this point, since I can’t even open my eyes, but at a certain point, you just have to laugh at how hard it is.
Its not like they say it is in books; at least it doesn’t feel that way to me. Somewhere around mile 21 it’s feeling very difficult to run but it’s not like I’ve smacked head first into a wall. It is more like someone has added a sandbag to my back every couple minutes while I was zoning out and suddenly I realize I’m running much slower. I try to pick up the pace but my body simply will not respond.
At mile 22 I’m having trouble doing the math of what’s left. I decide to ignore all the mile markers and screaming fans and focus exclusively on moving my legs; I completely remove myself mentally, refusing to let myself freak out about the loss of control over my body. I’m afraid that if I acknowledge the problem, it will get worse and my body will simply stop moving. Instead, in my mind I’m on Pre’s Trail in Eugene going for an easy four mile stroll like I’ve done a thousand times before. My hope is that if I tune out for long enough, I’ll reopen my eyes and find myself in view of the finish line in Central Park.
After what feels like forever, someone leans way over the railing and screams my name inches from my face, drawing me out of my trance. Her eyes are brown and she has the skinny arms of a distance runner. I must be near the finish…where is the mile marker? The sign ahead slowly comes into focus: 23 miles. Oh God. It’s only been one mile. How is that possible?
It’s Only a 5k
The state of my mind and body is so terrible that I can’t even imagine covering a distance that should be a reflex for me after 16 years. How the hell am I going to make it 5k in this state? I feel every meter of those last 5000. My tonail is hanging by a thread. My quads, hips and butt muscles are hardly even firing and I feel like a sloppy puppet on strings being dragged up and over the hills by a 3 year old child.
As soon as I think it, I throw the thought away and go right back to putting one foot in front of the other. I am flow. The marathon doesn’t even exist. The metal barricades lining this hilly course through Central Park don’t exist. The rows of people three-deep screaming at me don’t exist. I’m running with my eyes nearly closed, tiny slits allowing only a ray of light through my eyelashes. This gives me the impression that I’m in that white room in the Matrix, surrounded by nothing. It feels good to be surrounded by nothing.
Time passes. A girl is screaming at me. I open my eyes. She is wearing a Canyon High School Cross Country T-shirt just like one I have at home. She is running alongside me. She has hopped the barrier. She is cheering me on and smiling. She suddenly looks alarmed. Is she in trouble? No. She is alarmed because of how I look. She is concerned. I start to laugh.
You know what’s awesome? I say to myself. Never in my life will a 5k feel this hard again. There is something powerful and crazy and amazing about that realization. I notice the sign that says Mile 26. Road markers tick down the yards to the finish line that towers ahead of me. Its closer than I thought. Someone is waving me to the right side of the finish line. I cross under the banner and I stop. A medal is placed around my neck. My legs feel like they want to keep going, caught in perpetual motion like when you step off a treadmill. I suddenly wonder if I stopped too soon. Is the finish line further up there? No? My legs suddenly kill. I can hardly stand. My back muscles, hips and quads have been disengaged. Mary Wittenberg is holding me up. I thank her. Jesse takes me from her. I thank him. Why am I thanking people? My eyes are back to tiny slits. All I see is noise.
Aftershocks
Jesse told me that it took 10 minutes for me to come back to Earth. All I remember is pain, being walked places, and a self-conscious feeling that I shouldn’t answer any questions or baby noises might come out of my mouth. After that I start talking to everyone and feel fine except that I’m hypothermic and freezing to the point of convulsing. Despite the alarm of people around me, I keep insisting that I’m totally fine. It takes 30 minutes in a tent, a Mylar blanket and two cups of scalding tea that burn my shaking arms before my body stops shivering. And as soon as it does, I’m whisked off to a press conference where I run into Queen Latifa (total coincidence), eat lots of amazing food and talk to reporters for a couple hours. I’m gleeful at my accomplishment but also exhausted. This makes doing interviews especially challenging.
As I walk back through the lobby of my hotel, I’m amazed to see at least 200 other runners milling about, wearing their medals. I limp through the crowd, past people hugging, chatting, limping in other directions. The wall of the elevator supports me on the ride up to the 40th floor. In my room, Jesse is fast asleep, experiencing the unique exhaustion of an invested partner of a marathoner. I watch him for a moment trying to figure out what to do with myself. There will be parties to attend, champions to crown, and people to celebrate with. I lift up the covers and crawl in behind him, asleep before the covers are again warm.
__________________________________________
Interested in another side of the story? Read Jere Longman’s version of the weekend and see some pics in his piece from the New York Times. Here’s the link.
I’d love to read your comments about your marathon experiences. Do tell!
Beautiful and eloquent. Steaming with truth and perspective.
They do get more manageable now that you know what to expect.
There is a special thrill when pushing beyond the breaking point. Very few people really understand that. For those who do, life can often seem listless outside of those moments.
Well said Easa.
Congrats Lauren! I still haven’t brought myself to run a full Marathon! I’ve done 5 Half Marathons since 2009… I’m excited to see the difference that *consistent* strength training has added to my running capabilities/time… now to be consistent with speed, tempo, etc. training!
Thanks for your inspiration- even if you are mega fast in comparison 😉
The strength training will make you so much more robust in your other training. I’ve seen huge results from that myself.
Congrats Lauren – Great Post. I ran my first Marathon in October and ran my second one this past weekend. Your recap is so similar to what I was feeling (except my “coming out fast” is about 21/2 minutes slower than your fast :). Thank you for sharing your story!!! Run On!
Just goes to show that time isn’t as relevant as one might think. That being said, I don’t know what I would have done if hitting the wall took much longer than it already took for me. I don’t think I could have handled many more minutes of that, and I know lots of people have to put up with the pain of the wall for a much longer time due to a slower overall pace. It blows my mind.
Congratulations on finishing your first NYC marathon!!! It’s funny after my first marathon I had some post-race brain and thanked everybody as well!! I hope you are well recovered by now.
That’s funny. I wonder if post-race-thankers are a particular breed of runner.
I ran Mount desert island a few weeks before your Marathon. Boy does your description of the last few miles sound familiar. One piece of advice I liked, was never think about the whole distance to go after mile 20, just think one mile at a time. 30k of transportation, 4k of racing, 8k of hell.
I had a similar crash to yours adding about 90 sec a mile after mile 20. It never gets easy, but does get easier, when you know what is coming. Think back to high school and the first time you ran a mile race and you can’t believe how painful it is. The marathon has its own specific tax to levy, and no amount of racing at shorter distances is preparation for the discomfort.
Nice writing Michael. I like the way you put that. Recently I watched an elementary school PE class putting kids through an 800meter race. The looks of shock and horror at what they were feeling the last 100m had me rolling. Ok so its cruel to laugh at kids in pain, but I still did it. It was like they were saying “What the HELL is HAPPENING?!”
Yay! Part 3! I’ve been checking every day for this (I know, I could sign up for the email, but its more suspenseful to check) You write so well, great recap! I too, have done the squinty eyes thing late in a marathon when you just don’t want to be there. The first marathon I “ran” was Philly in 2008 and I was in grad school and definitely let the training go by the wayside (i.e. 1 15 mile training run a month before and probably a total of 26 miles in the 3 weeks leading up to it). Really intelligent. I got the ITband to lock up around mile 18, so the last 8 miles I’m hobbling along, getting passed by what had to be almost every 70 year old man running the thing, and they all said “keep going, you can do it!” as they passed me. So sweet of them and so humbling for me 🙂 The positive? I redeemed myself a year and a half later by ACTUALLY training for a marathon and got to tell everyone I PR’d by 50 minutes! Congratulations on a fantastic race, and very well-wishes for the upcoming months!
Dang! That’s intense! Running with a locked IT band is no joke. Gotta love the sandbag PR after that though. Classic. Really impresses the non-running friends (50 minutes faster?! holy cow!!!). The runner friends are like “yeah but your IT band was effed up last time.”
Amazing, what a great story. You are my favourite runner. Well done I hope you run more marathons.
Thanks Simon. Sometime down the road for sure.
I really enjoyed reading your recap, as well as the NYT article on the race. I ran Chicago this year with the hopes to race. Despite a solid training cycle, it didn’t come together … some physically, and a lot mentally. You’re attitude towards running and racing is inspiring and I have been really encouraged by your words. Thank you for your candor. Looking forward to watching you race in 2012!
Thanks for the comment Elisabeth. I’m sure you are already well on your way to that Chicago experience working its way into your favor for the next time. You only learn a little bit from your successes, and a lot of what you think you learned from your successes is unrelated coincidence. But failures are gold mines. Put on your headlamp and start digging if you haven’t already!
Congratulations Lauren! Your marathon posts were so much fun to read and so well written. Keep up the honesty, modesty and light touch when you write from London in 2012!
Thanks Carla.
Peter Segal (of NPR’s Wait, Wait…) said it best. The half way point of the marathon comes at mile 20 not 13.1.
There comes a part, as you found out, when the body starts to shut down and your brain says , “OK enough, I’m stopping this”. You either give into the pain and suffering when you are wishing your grandparents never met, or you dig real deep’ push everything aside and say “I will finish”. One foot in front of the other…. “run if you can, walk if you have too, but always go forward”.
Congratulations again.
Thanks Greg. You are totally right there. Luckily before the race I had made up my mind that I was going to finish no matter what. That way when things got tough in the race, it was easier for me to keep coming back to “I’m finishing this bad boy no matter what.” Ambiguity before a marathon seems like it would be disastrous.
Lauren, you write so well. Ok, here are my comments, in list form:
1. I think the Verrazano is hard to get “right.” I wanted to be around 8:45 for the first two miles, but knew is was ok if I was slower or so the RCF (ben) told me. I was 9:22 the first mile, 7:52 the 2nd. I took that whole “slow starting thing” really seriously the first mile and it went out the window the 2nd. I tried.
2. The Queensboro bridge should be flattened. I questioned at points on that bridge if I was moving forward at any appreciable rate on that thing. The downhill was the end of my leg.
3. I always have to make the distances towards the end like something I’m used to ie at 20, “just another loop of central park.”
4. I guess I’m not that bright, because I always get confused on mile markers at the end, meaning I’ll forget if I passed one (thought I passed 18 this year and was depressed when the next one was 18) or will think, “wait, am I on the 22nd mile or have I run 22 miles?”
5. In Jersey, from mile 21 on, I swore someone had placed on of those wind blower things in front of me.
6. The lamest thing about NYC for me was the whole time I kept thinking “well, I need to finish this as this is my 9th race for 9 +1 so I can do this next year.” I mean, I couldn’t end on a bad NY right?
7. You are awesome. I hope in my next marathon I get hypothermic and wobbly so I’ll know I tried hard enough.
8. I predict your Olympicizing will be awesome.
8b. If you need nail polish recs for Olympicizing, you know who to call. I already have ideas.
9. Keep it up…wearing sparkly headbands.
YOU GO GIRL!!!!
I’ll second that idea on the queenboro bridge being flattened.
Word.
It’s great to hear a runner as accomplished as you are tell it like it is – running 26.2 miles is really, really tough… and really, really rewarding. And I’m confident your marathon work will really start to pay off in the new year – I ran London in April and had an awful day (I ran a 10K PR straight off the line – and then I got an excrutiating 20-mile lesson on why it’s a bad idea to go out hard in a marathon). But a month later, I ran a 5K PR… in the second half of a 10K! And yes, the ignominious London record fell that day, too. It’s a cliche because it’s true: training is money in the bank.
Good to hear Daphne. That last 20 miles REALLY must have sucked. Wow. Nice comeback in your 10k!
Amazing job! Reading this account is really inspiring, ESPECIALLY because of the difficulties. But you did it and lived and in the end, felt awesome about it. Thanks for being a huge motivation!
Thanks Lauren.
Wow! This was amazing to read! Congratulations and keep writing so I can keep reading!
Thanks Lauren B.
Great 3 part series Lauren. Totally enjoyed it. You (and other runners / readers) can read my account of his awesome run ‘Magnificent NYC Marathon’ at http://t.co/HFHahoKL
Cheers,
Navin
I couldn’t WAIT to read part 3 of your recap. So well written and intense.
What a great accomplishment on your first marathon …AND you want to do it
again! This is the beginning of an exciting long distance career. I can’t wait for more 🙂
Thanks Joanne.
Lauren, this recap is beautifully written. Running a marathon is freakin’ HARD and it’s fascinating what your mind can do to get you through that last 10K. You do a great job portraying the mental strugge that ensues once your body tires beyond belief. Love knowing it’s the same for all marathon runners…no matter what your speed. Congrats!
Thanks Robyn. It would be a great book to compile the various mental games and experiences during people’s “wall-hitting” experience wouldn’t it? It would be science fiction, horror, fantasy…you name it!
Great series of reports; thanks for posting. I know this will sound strange, but I loved the part about getting back to the hotel to find your husband, the invested partner of a marathoner, asleep in bed. That has happened to me a few times, and reading that it happens even to elite runners made me smile 🙂
It is no easy job for the significant other, is it? They live the whole thing but have no control over the outcome. Brutal!
Lauren, you experience of hitting the wall was very interesting.
The only two marathons I’ve run, I’ve hit the wall around 18 and 22 mile markers. It was a textbook “wall”, I just ran out of energy, like a car running out of gas. It took me a mile of jogging/walking plus one power bar (Picky Bars were not round in ’96) to get back going again.
When I ran a ½ marathon in Sydney Australia, I hit the wall just as you described, slowing down but feeling that you could run faster but you can’t pick up the pace at all. Kind of like a dream where you are running in a race but not matter what you do, you can’t run any faster.
Great job on your marathon!
Can’t help but wonder if the causes of both types of “wall” are different. Like maybe one type is more fuel related and the other is more of a training issue. I did have a sore throat the day before the race so maybe my systems were a bit down and my kind of wall was more of a “drained” progressive one as a result of that? Who knows. Interesting thought.
the first one is the hardest, next one will be much better 😉
congratulations on the finish, I believe with you it will really help with racing 5k.
my first marathon, at 17 – reached 20 miles on schedule at 2:12, that was fine, but the next thing I remembered was clinging to a fence high above the cold green Atlantic and wondering where I was and how I got there.. staggered to the next aid station, drank a litre of Coke, and took another hour to finish. I went back to the dorm and fell asleep, roommate woke me up in an hour accusing me of being lazy for being still sleeping at 11am..
Wow, first one at 17? You really caught the bug early :). I bet that last hour of the race was the longest hour of your life. What a roommate too. You got the short straw on that one.
I ran the NYC marathon as well, and I loved reading your race reports! Congrats on a phenomenal first marathon!!
Thanks!
I’ve been excited to read this post Lauren and now I sit here teary-eyed at the intensity and vivid details recounting your experience. Bravo with your accomplishment AND for sharing your experience so beautifully with us. You inspire many~ thank you!
Thanks MorningT. I’m inspired by many.
Congratulations and wonderful post! I have run a marathon, but it took me almost 2 hours longer than you, and there is definitely something unique to the exhaustion and determination you describe at the end of your (much faster) marathon. Even though it’s a vast challenge, you definitely inspire me to tackle another and tackle it faster. Hope your recovery has gone well. Congratulations again!!
Thanks Lisa. I’m glad you are inspired. Always remember the real joy comes from the process of committing and preparing and pushing your own personal limits. Find those edges of discomfort and laugh at them!
Loved your report. I wondered if it was wise for you to try to finish this race given the onset of the knee issue, but it seems like you knew what you were doing, and (having started some marathons with the intention of dropping out at some stage) I can relate well to the psychological benefits of finishing.
I can remember how tired I was after my first marathon! It does get easier. Now we finish the race, shower, and go to Disney World.
I am glad you had a positive experience in NYC. I hated that race the year I ran it (1997). We had heavy, cold rain for most of the time I was out there, I had a 24-hour stomach flu the day before and could not eat anything, and the friend I had planned to run with died of a heart attack a few months before the race. Can’t get much worse than that! My family caught up with me on 1st Ave and I’m still not sure why I didn’t drop out. It was not a great day. But I finished. I prefer the smaller marathons, but I would like to run NY again on a better weather day!
I loved how you wore your finisher’s medal to the press conference. You are such a geek! Thank you for sharing your experiences with us.
Wow! Your first NY Marathon sounds like it was horrendous. But clearly from your description, you get my determination to finish. For better or worse, I can be a bit stubborn. I’m lucky I got away with this one unharmed.
Can you please write a book??? You could put Born to Run to shame! Congrats on a great race and best of luck in your training for 2012! Cant wait to follow you!
Working on it! Ha! That would be a dream indeed.
Finally Part 3!! I love reading your posts. I feel like I am right there with you (or about 2 hours behind you). I have always followed track and field and came across your blog because of your PIcky Bars. I am 47, ran track in High School and now run 4 hr marathons (actually 4:19!) Wanted you to know that average runners like me love reading what you have to say and will be cheering for you at your next big event.
Just got my autographed “Believe I Am Training Journal” today…love it!!
Thanks Lynn! I’m so happy you got a Believe I Am Journal! I hope it takes your marathon training to an even more rewarding level. And thanks for the compliment on the blog. That’s very kind of you.
I love reading race reports, and yours was the best. I have run 16 Marathons and I could never have described the experience any better.
After my first Marathon I swore I would never run one again. I am glad I changed my mind. I hope you eventually run more too. But I know you have a lot of fast 5000 m races to do first.
Thanks Krusher. Damn! 16 marathons is no joke. I can see how you get sucked in for more though. What a ride. Have you read Liz Robbins’ book
“A Race Like No Other”? You’d love it. Just flew through it.
I almost cried while sitting in the kitchen while reading this. Then I thought how embarrassing it would be to explain to my roommate, so I decided not to. Your running and writing inspires me!
Leah, thanks for posting! Why did you almost cry? From laughter? From marathon nightmare memories?
NAILED IT!!!
with each painful account all i could think was, “yep…yep…ooooh, been there…yep….” part 3 lived up to expectations!
you want to run another one now, right? don’t tell me sunday afternoon you thought, “never again,” only to wake up the next morning thinking, “ugh, i could do better!” it’s going to suck you back in, only a matter of time.
Wonderful report! Everything I was hoping for and more. You are so humble when you write that I have to remind myself as I am reading this just how amazing your performance is.
My favorite marathon experience (out of 12) was my third Boston marathon that was also my marathon PR. I had had a hectic year and had been maintaining my fitness but not training specifically for the race. It was the year of the women’s Olympic trials, and we spent a lot more time on our feet cheering them on than I would normally spend the day before my own marathon. I got into the tenth corral at the start and could not even see the start line. There was no one I knew anywhere near me, so unlike races at home where I always know someone that I happen to be standing near at the start. Everyone was focused on their own race and I felt so small and insignificant. My thoughts were, oh, please, just let me finish. And then I was off with everyone else and just running because this was not going to be a race for me that day. And I just ran some more and more. I got all the way to the half without really being aware of my time and then I was. I saw the clock and checked my watch and did the math. And then did the math again. And then a smile crept across my face because I felt so fresh but was on a multi-minute PR pace. The photographer happened to catch me with that smile on my face, and I have the photo framed. The rest of the run became a lot more fun as I kept the PR goal in mind. I knew I would see my husband at the top of Heartbreak Hill (which he had sleepily dubbed Sweetheart Hill when I kissed him goodbye in the hotel room on my way out the door that morning). Somehow he picked me out of the crowd and jumped in with me. He says that my eyes slid over towards him but I didn’t waste any energy by turning my head. It was too loud to say anything to him then, but past the hill I told him, “I’m on PR pace. Help me get there.” And that was all. I knew he could pace me. And he did. And I got my PR by about 30 seconds and broke 3:28. I wish I could say that I ran a perfectly executed race, but this performance had to sneak up on me when I was very relaxed and just hoping to finish. Even as I write about it, I feel some of the original excitement and empowerment that day brought. That’s the thing about a marathon. You get it done and it remains a part of you forever.
Very well written. Go on writing, and running of course.
I.S., Belgium
Do you really use the elliptigo?
Is a good enough workout to be worth the money?
Hi Lauren! I know how your race went and ready the NYT article, but this was so awesome to read – gave me goosebumps and I felt like I was right there with you. Well, I was but like an hour and a lot of change later. I was done like dinner by the half because of IT band pain, and it took all of my strength and mental toughness to keep going, push through it and finish. The Queensboro bridge nearly killed me – WHY IS IT SO HARD – and the last 13 miles of the race were probably the toughest I’ve ever run. It’s taken me these two weeks to not be disappointed in my finish time and the fact that I was nowhere near my goal. I’m really happy I didn’t give up, finished and learn a crapload in the process. That’s what matters, right?
Nice work! Hope you’re recovering well!
Great race and congrats Lauren. Thank you for the amazing write up of your experience. I’m sure everyone who has experience a marathon was able to relate to the words your so eloquently used to describe your own experience. Good luck and hope to watch you run in London next summer.
Congratulations again Lauren ! Lots of the same things went through my mind during the marathon but I had a lot more time to think about them ! Keep up the great writing. Always looking forward to your next posts.
I loved reading this and how honest you are. I was watching the marathon on TV and kept yelling “Go Lauren!” when I saw you! An amazing and inspiring article. I am running my first marathon on Sunday the 27th in Seattle. I am excited, but nervous.
People have asked me if I “hit the wall” and what it felt like to run past the distance I had covered before the marathon (22 miles). The way you describe it (sandbag metaphor) is absolutely incredible, accurate, and brings me back into a flurry of my own memories from November 6th. Thank you for 3 incredible writeups, for letting us amateurs follow along in your 1st marathon, and for being a great role model for young female runners like myself!
(Side note: my coach Josh told me yesterday that late on the night of 11/6 he was at a bar or something in Midtown with his own coach (Lesley Higgins) and he got to hang out with you and Molly Huddle. So. Freaking. Jealous.)
Can’t wait to hear what the world of pro running has in store for you next!
Congrats on the finish and strength to get you through! Reading that brought me right back to Chicago in October, though instead of crossing the finish line I collapsed at mile 25.5 because my legs wanted nothing more to do with going forward. Ill be back though. Hope to see you back in the long races again!! Keep it up, enjoy your winter!!
You’re so incredible! When I tell people I want to be a runner, a lot of people are like “oh wow” in a yeah-not-happening kind of why. When I read your blogs and your stories I am so inspired to JUST DO IT! Lauren, you rock!
Lauren,
You as great a writer as you are a runner! Your details of the race are amazing. I ran the same course and have little recollection of the mile by mile details. I loved the NYC experience. I have ran 2 Bostons and Chicago, but NYC was the best! I ran a terrible race, my slowest ever and ended up in the med tent with and IV, but I finished. I will do it again at Surf City in Febraury. The next one will be at a smarter pace and no Queensboro Bridge!
Keep on running and writing. You are a true inspiration!
Congratulations on a great race! I followed your race along the top of the screen and had a donut when you moved from 19th to 16th.
“For an hour we watch the sun pink the sky and silver the water as New York City’s collective pulse gravitates toward Staten Island.”
How does anyone think to turn a phrase like that? Superbly written! Best of luck training for trials.
I just wanted to tell you that I have been following your blog for a long time and you inspire me so much. I am a junior in high school, running cross country and track, and I always look forward to getting to watch your races online and hearing about the personal, behind-the scenes details. Writing about your experiences, both the good and bad, really give me some insight into the life of a professional runner. I have been injured on and off since sophomore year and I finally feel like I am getting everything under control, and a lot of that has to do with your advice. Thanks so much for being such a great role model. Oh yeah, and by the way, I saw your twitter post about the good luck to SS CIF finals runners and I thought it was so great because I was in that race this morning!
Uuunh! THAT brought back some memories… I haven’t done one of these in 20+ years. Now I remember why. Flawless description tho: ‘…sloppy puppet on strings being dragged up and over the hills by a three-year-old.’ Priceless.
Now you know how you’ll need to train for London: 12-15mi at 4:40 or faster 2x a week (so you get to 2 laps to go in the 5k aerobic and fresh) with a LOT of rest in between and careful attention to PT & rehab. I’d suggest staying on trails like Pre’s: don’t even look at a track until April or May. You’ve got a perfect training partner in Skip. Go for it! All the best.
Lauren – what a beautifully written post! I live at Mile 18 on the course and got such a kick out of seeing you go by! A question for you – I am a pretty serious runner and, through a series of circumstances, am now without my longtime coach (10 years together). it is challenging for me to stay motivated – lots of fits and starts and can’t seem to put together a solid 4-6 weeks to get back to it after taking 9 months off serious training while going to massage therapy school. I’m middle-aged but definitely not ready to hang them up. Any chance you might have some recommendations of people who do online coaching or via phone? I need the interaction, even if it’s over the phone or email – not just training plans. Bought the Believe I Am training log and Strong shirt in an attempt to get me re-focused! Would love to hear what you think! Congrats on a great debut and keep us posted on your racing plans!
Lauren,
I love your blog and your insight and especially your honesty! Thanks for the great NYC posts and congratulations on your performance. I ran NYC this year, 3rd time, met a nice Canadian on the bridge, and decided to run with her at her pace. Along the dreaded Queensboro, I openly talked about my tough time on this part of the course. Immediately several runners around us told me they’d help me through – and they did – with silly chatter and distractions. They were there again on 5th Avenue to keep me lighthearted during that annoying gradual uphill trudge. My Canadian friend and I separated in Central Park and met again at the finish. It was not a PR but a PB – personal best marathon, in terms of fun and joy. I hope if you run NYC again, you’ll find all of the fun and joy that I did.
I love the posts and I’m hoping you will follow this up with a part 4 (of 3) on some of the longer term recovery process. My first (and only) marathon hit 90 degrees in May and I was completely unprepared for the heat. I didn’t take the heat into account in my pacing and had a pretty rough last six miles. The hardest thing for me was how long it took to recover from that effort and how sluggish I felt even running a few weeks later. I would love to hear about your experiences with recovery and any tips you have!
Since I’m the one who “nudged” you into hurrying up and posting Part 3, I’ll take a little credit for making all your blog readers so happy! Seriously, though, thanks for taking the time to chronicle your adventure – I enjoyed it just as much as everybody else. As someone who has returned to running after more than a 15-year break, I’m always looking for new sources of inspiration to keep me going. Your blog has been one of my best discoveries. Getting back into shape was a challenge, but I recently completed my first half-marathon. Now, after reading about your NYC experience, I’m ready to take dead aim at 26.2!. . . . Wishing you all the best in everything that you pursue!
Oh Lauren, you are cracking me up with your humor, but what an amazing story from one amazing gal!! My list of heroes has just expanded. Best of luck with your Oly training — at first glimpse, that must seem like a downhill trot after your marathon experience!
Hi Lauren,
What a great account, nothing feels like it. It just went on and on and on. By mile 20 I was like, enough already!! NYC this year was my first too. What a day! Here is my long-winded account. http://ccsramblings.com/2011/11/08/nyc-marathon-part-one/
Unfortunately, I didn’t get what I wanted but that was not within my control, or my pants 😉 I am hoping though that all this training will help me too in my 5K times for the next year!
All the best,
Celeste
Dear Lauren,
Again congratulations with your first marathon. Wonderful report of the marathon. I also ran the NYC marathon on the 6th of November and was also my first marathon! Hard part for me was the Queensboro bridge. The way you described your experience with the bridge is so what the same as I felt on that part. I felt this bridge to be endless! A lot of people were walking, but I was talking to myself I will not walk and slow down my pace. Well honestly for me there was no other option! The marathon was a great experience and the crowd was SUPER. I will definitely do this marathon again to beat the Queensboro bridge.