2003 ING New York City Marathon

The 2003 ING New York City Marathon was glorious! Spectacular Nov. 2 weather brought out large crowds to cheer on the runners.

Native New Yorker P. Diddy (alias Puff Daddy) stole the spotlight from the Kenyans, who swept the first three places in both the men’s and women’s divisions. But he was no match for native New Yorker Ray Christensen! I missed a P.R., but captured 4,416th place out of 34,600 finishers.

P. Diddy,  had heavily publicized his run, to raise money for charity. He raised over $2 million, much of it for NY City schools. Meanwhile, I was struggling to raise the remaining $600 I’d committed to for Arthritis Foundation for 2003.

Big Apple Places Best Foot Forward!
Runners visiting New York for the first time will not soon forget the support they were shown. The organizers of this monumental event did a fabulous job. Local citizens of every nationality gave their all to cheer on runners and help push us to the finish line.

A long commute after a short night of sleep
It’s strongly recommended to get more than 5 1/2 hours of sleep prior to running a marathon. You could say that I ignored this conventional wisdom. My alarm went off at 4:30am, I ate some Raisin Bran, took my mega-vitamins, stretched a bit and suited up. I drove 8 miles to the Continental Avenue (Queens) subway station. My heart skipped a beat when I saw a locked gate at the first entrance I tried, but down the street the gate was open and I took a seat next to several silent people waiting for the F train. Within a few stops, several marathoners boarded and when we got off at 42nd Street, we joined thousands of runners being lined up outside the NY Public Library to board busses to Staten Island.

Final leg of trip to start
Hundreds of smiling volunteers wished us “Good Morning” and “Good Luck”! I sat next to a Costa Rican runner who was shooting for a 3:15 time. As the sun rose, we toured southern Manhattan before taking the tunnel to Brooklyn. By 7am, we were at the staging area at Fort Wadsworth, Staten Island.

Wait, Food, Drink and Port-A-Potties
The pleasant atmosphere of a county fair greeted us at the staging area in the shadow of the Verrazano Bridge. 40,000 of us lined up for coffee, bagels, yogurt smoothies, and plenty of water as a band played live music from a stage. UPS trucks would take our bags of supplies to the finish line. Port-a-potties stretched as far as the eye could see. We would be herded into our corrals at 9:30, as the elite women were starting. Race time was 10:10am.

Race starts under a brilliant sun
I was herded into my corral (the 13,000-13,999 group) and got in precious little last-minute stretching. When a couple people tried to escape the corral, armed soldiers ordered them back in. After 20 minutes, we were sent to the start area near the tollbooths. More waiting. The National Anthem. At 10:10, the gun sounds. New York, New York is playing and we’re bound for glory!

Since I had a Red bib, I ran east in the westbound lanes of the bridge, which afforded me a good view of the helicopters overhead and the fireboats saluting us with red and blue colored water below. Blue bibs were to my right, and Green bibs unfortunately got to take the lower level to Brooklyn.  Running felt good and the 60 degree temperature felt great.

Brooklyn – Water, Pitstop and Music!
The crowd lined both sides of 4th Avenue, cheering loudly. I took advantage of having my name written on my singlet by running close to the spectators. By the end of the race, I’d feel like a rock star, having had hundreds of people yell my name, with comments like:
“Ray, you’re the man!”     “Go for it, Ray!”     “Looking good, Ray!” …

I nodded when they called me. I gave high fives and low fives. I laughed at the kids handing out water while dressed in raingear. Music filled the air all types… Rock, Jazz, Bagpipes, boomboxes, a guy sitting on his 2nd floor window ledge playing sax. Everyone was cheering – whites, blacks, Puerto Ricans, hecitic Jews, Asians. New York at it’s best.

Passing mile 4, I noticed a park with a hedge of bushes near the street. The opportunity to water those bushes was not to be passed up. Out loud I said “those bushes look mighty good!” and the runner ahead of me immediately agreed and veered off to help me water them.

First Avenue – Is it in you?
First Avenue runs a long way. Miles 16 through 20 show you what you’re made of. Legs start getting tired, but it’s too soon to count down the miles to the finish. Each water stop is an oasis and I crave the Gatorade locations for an excuse to walk a few steps. Crowd support gets more important as you need any advantage you can get. Mile 18 gives you some Power Gel for a boost of energy. At 18.5, cool, wet sponges are given out and I happily keep mine to wet at the remaining water stops, since the temperature is now in the upper 60′s.

The Bronx – Crunch Time
The short climb of the bridge into the Bronx is not easy, and it’s a very tangible example of “the wall”. Red carpet covers the grated sections, but you don’t really feel like a VIP at this point. Salsa music. Heavy Metal. More bagpipes. It all helps at this point. It’s a great feeling to finally turn back south into Manhattan for the home stretch, but the final five miles are no walk in the park!

Fifth Avenue – Just do it!
By this time, crowd support has become crucial. As marathoners take walking breaks, they’re urged to keep up the pace.  Five miles to go is equivalent to 3 laps at Delcastle Park. First Avenue gradually rises and it takes more and more concentration to resist the urge to stop and walk. We’re running down the east side of Central Park and my pace has slowed. With two miles left, I start feeling cramps in several places, including my right hamstring, which has never bothered me before. Not quite panic, but I pray and it eases up as I run through it.

Glory!!!!!! – the final mile
My final walk break is at mile 25 and I break back into a trot.  I’m right near my Anchorage pace, although hopes for a PR are dwindling. Approaching the southeast corner of the park, we enter and make a long curve to the right. I know I’m going to finish, so I wave at the cheering spectators far away on the left, behind barricades. Several wave back. Another turn to the right and signs for the final meters and yards start to appear. I run between the grandstands, with the finish line in sight. As always, I raise my arms in triumph while crossing the line, then stop my watch, which reads a very unofficial 3:43:18. A medal is placed around my neck. Congratulations are offered. Water. Gatorade. A bag containing an apple, banana, energy bar and Tylenol. As I join my fellow warriors on our long, slow march out of the park, I’m happy.
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