Monday, November 22, 2021

Injury Report: I Tweaked My Lower Back Again.

I guess it’s a sign of my age.  It seems like I post injury reports almost as often as I post race reports.  I tweaked my lower back again.

I first noticed it yesterday morning, as I was waiting for the start of the Philadelphia Marathon.  I felt some minor discomfort around my right hip.  At the time, I thought I just had some tight muscles.  It was in the same area where I experience soreness in my hip after a vigorous race-walking workout.  I was glad I was running instead of race-walking, because running wouldn’t put the same strain on those muscles.

It never bothered me during the race.  I also didn’t notice it later in the day.  I was only aware of some stiffness in my right knee after the race.

The next time I noticed it was during the night.  Getting in and out of bed, I felt some soreness in my lower back.  It was worse this morning.  There’s soreness on the right side of my lower back, and sometimes on my right hip.

I’ve had these symptoms before.  It’s similar to the symptoms I had last May, although that was worse.  In May, I also had tingling on the right of my right leg.  Most likely, I have a disk protrusion in the lumbar region, and it’s impinging on a nerve root.  I felt it just walking back and forth in my hotel room.

I was originally planning to take a train to the airport this morning.  I already wasn’t looking forward to walking up and down steps in the train station, because I knew that would be hard on my right knee.  Now, I was more concerned about walking to the train station carrying a suitcase in one hand.  Carrying extra weight on one side would have me off-balance, putting more strain on my lower back.

In all likelihood, that’s how I injured it.  On Saturday, I was carrying my bag on one side while walking through airports, train stations, and on the walk to my hotel from the train station.  The impact of running hard for 26.2 miles probably made it worse.

Instead of taking the train, I took a taxi to the airport.  That not only spared me from walking to the train station with my luggage, but also spared me from having to walk up and down and stairs.  When I got to the airport, I was all too happy to check my bag, so I wouldn't have to carry it around through the airports.  It's bad enough that I was still supporting the weight of my backpack.

I already know what exercises to do while I’m recovering from this injury.  I’ll start doing them as soon as I get home.  It shouldn’t take too long to recover, but it’s going to have some impact on training and racing.

The short-term impact is that I’ll have to back off on the intensity of my race-walking.  The faster I walk, the more rotation I put into my lower back.  I’ll still do some walking, but I won’t go as fast.  It’ll be more about getting exercise than training to go fast.

I’m less sure about how it will affect my running.  Already, I was limiting myself to only running uphill in training.  I’ve been doing that to lessen the impact on my knee.  It also limits the impact on my spinal column.  Maybe that’s enough.  If not, I’ll take a break from running.

My next race is in two weeks.  It’s a race with a nice flat course.  I was planning to race-walk it.  I’ll probably still walk, but I might back off on the pace.

Two weeks after that, I’m doing a downhill race.  That will involve much more impact on both my knee and my back.  I don’t think I can walk that course.  Walking on that downhill grade would be awkward.

I scheduled the downhill race to give myself an opportunity to qualify for the 2023 Boston Marathon.  I was a bit concerned about it being hard on my knee.  Now I’m also concerned about it being hard on my lower back.  If there’s good news, it’s that I no longer need a Boston qualifier.  I qualified yesterday in the Philadelphia Marathon.  I’m not sure how that race will go, but it’s still four weeks away.  The last time I tweaked my lower back, I was much better after four weeks.  Only time will tell.

Sunday, November 21, 2021

Race Report: 2021 Philadelphia Marathon

On November 21, I ran the Philadelphia Marathon.  I’ve done this race twice before, but the last time was way back in 2014.

I flew to Philadelphia on Saturday and took a train into town from the airport.  Before walking to my hotel, I stopped for a slice of pizza at Rex Pizza, which was on the way.  My hotel was in the city center, so I was able to walk everywhere I needed to go.

When I got to my hotel, they didn’t have any rooms ready, so I checked my bags and went for a walk.  I started by walking to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, which is close to where the race starts and finishes.  There’s a scene in Rocky II where Rocky goes for a run.  He’s shown running through various neighborhoods in Philadelphia.  The scene ends with Rocky sprinting down Benjamin Franklin Parkway and running up these steps.


In Rocky III, there’s a scene where the city unveils a statue of Rocky.  That statue now sits near the base of the steps.  On marathon weekend, the race organizers sometimes make an extra large version of the race T-shirt and put in on the statue.  They didn’t do that this year.


On my way to the museum, I passed the Rodin museum and this fountain.


On my way back, I walked through Love Park, where they had a Christmas village.


Finally, I went by city hall.


When I got back to the hotel, they had a room ready.  After checking in, I went to the expo to pick up my race packet.

This race was limited to runners who have been vaccinated for COVID-19.  To verify vaccination status, they used CrowdPass.  About a month ago, I received an email with an event ID.  I unloaded a copy of my vaccination card and received an email form CrowdPass with a QR code.  I needed to show that QR code at the expo to pick up my race packet.  Alternatively, I could’ve shown them my vaccination card, but the QR code was easier.

Later, I had dinner with my friends, Julia and Shane.  As early as Thursday I tried to make a dinner reservation, but all of the downtown restaurants were booked until at least 9:00.  We were hoping to eat at 6:30.  We had dinner at Iron Hill Brewery & Grill.  They don’t take reservations, but you can go online to put your name on the waiting list.  I put us on the list at 5:30, with hopes that we could be seated at 6:30.  For a while, it looked like we might have to wait until 7:15 or later, but we ended up getting seated just after 6:30.  They have a varied menu that includes pizza.  Also, it’s a brewery, so they have a variety of beer.

I went to bed early.  I didn’t sleep perfectly, but I got enough sleep to feel OK.  That’s all I can hope for the night before a race, when I’m sleeping in a hotel.

When I registered for this race, I assumed I would be race-walking.  It was only in the last few days that I decided to run it instead.  The weather played a big part in that decision.  It was a cold morning, with an overnight low in the upper 30s.  I thought I would be warmer if I ran.  If nothing else, I would finish sooner, so I wouldn’t have to spend as much time on the course.

Because I originally thought I would be walking, I estimated a slow finish time when I registered.  At the time, my fastest walking marathon this year was 5:15.  There was a colored band on the side of each race bib that indicated our corral assignments.  Mine was blue.  I had to look at a map of the start area to find out where that was.  There were eight corrals, and blue was the slowest.


The race started at 7:00.  I got up at 5:00, so I could be ready to leave the hotel by 6:00.  I didn’t have much time for breakfast.  I just had a few sips of Coke and a mini-muffin, which I ate while walking to the start.

I had to walk more than a mile to get to the start area.  When I got there, I saw an information desk, so I asked if I could get my corral assignment changed.  I was told that corral assignments weren’t enforced.  I could line up anywhere I wanted, except for the gold corral, which is where the elite athletes were.  I didn’t know which corrals corresponded to which times, but I knew Julia was in the green corral, and she usually runs marathons in 4:30.  I decided to start in the green corral, which was the fourth one.

Before making my way to the green corral, I had to get through three lines.  The first one was the security line, where they had to inspect everyone’s bags and screen everyone with a metal detector wand.

Next, I had to get through the gear check line.  There were about a dozen trucks for checking bags.  At most races, the trucks are either organized alphabetically by runner’s name or numerically by bib number.  At this race, all the trucks were interchangeable.  I noticed one of the trucks had a line that was much shorter, so that’s the line I got in.  I didn’t know it at the time, but that would later prove to be a mistake.

After checking my gear bag, I still had to get through the line for a port-o-potty.  Then I had to make my way to the green corral.  Without knowing the cutoff between that corral and the one in front of it, I decided to line up in the front of the green corral.

I wore tights, a T-shirt, arm warmers, gloves, and a warm hat.  Basically, I wore the same cheetah outfit I wore for the New York City Marathon, but I added arm warmers.  To stay warm on the walk from the hotel, I also wore my  poncho from the New York City Marathon.  After taking that off and checking it in my gear bag, I expected to be cold.  Surprisingly, I felt fairly comfortable standing in line for the port-o-potty and standing in the start corral.  After the national anthem, I heard some pre-race announcements, and then the gold corral started. 

The other corrals were staggered by two minutes each.  Before the red and black corrals started, I heard announcements calling out a few runners in those corrals who were in costume.  One was dressed as Santa.  Another was an elf.  As my corral moved into place, I heard mention of a cheetah.  At first, I didn’t know where the announcements were coming from.  Then I looked to my right as saw that I was right in front of the announcer, who was joined by well-known runners, including Meb Keflezighi, Bill Rodgers, and Bart Yasso.  I didn’t expect to get mentioned in pre-race announcements, but I’m pretty sure the announcer was referring to me.

I didn’t have an ambitious time goal.  I ran the New York City Marathon in 4:12:42, so I thought it would be nice if I could go a couple minutes faster than that.  That seemed like an easy goal.  This was an easier course, and I wasn’t planning to stop to take pictures.

As I started running, I immediately felt cold.  Usually, on a cold morning like this, I’m cold before the race starts, but I warm up after I start running.  This was the opposite.  I didn’t notice the cold breeze until I started running.  I warmed up eventually, but I was freezing for the first two or three miles.

The race starts on Benjamin Franklin Parkway.  Looking ahead, you have a clear view of City Hall.  The only time it wasn’t directly in front of us was when we went around the fountain at Logan Square.

I quickly got the sense that I was starting fast.  I think there were two reasons for that.  The first was the way I’ve been training lately.  About half of my training has been race-walking.  The other half is running.  When I race-walk, I try to keep my cadence as rapid as possible.  When I run, it’s either continuous running on a treadmill or a run/walk mix outside.  On the treadmill, I’m always running slightly uphill.  Outside, I only run the sections of my route that are uphill.  Where it’s flat or downhill, I race-walk.  I’ve been doing this to minimize the impact that my knees need to absorb.

Running uphill, I generally take short strides with a rapid cadence.  Running on level ground, I found myself taking longer strides, but I still had a rapid cadence.  That caused me to go faster than I do in training.

Another reason I started fast is because I was surrounded by faster runners.  Green may have been the right corral, but I probably lined up too far forward in that corral.  I wasn’t trying to keep up with the runners around me, but when everyone around you is running fast, it tends to skew your perception of how fast you’re running.

When we reached Love Park, we made a slight left onto Arch Street.  As we passed City Hall, the next neighborhood we ran through was Chinatown.  From there, we continued east, toward the Delaware River.

I never saw the one mile sign, so I didn’t check my pace until I finished the second mile.  I ran the first two miles in 16:35, which is an average of 8:17 per mile.  That’s more than a minute per mile faster than my average pace in the New York City Marathon two weeks ago.  As I started the third mile, I told myself to relax and let myself drift back through the pack, rather than keeping up with the runners around me.  That proved to be easier said than done.

As we started the third mile, we were running downhill toward the river.  It’s hard to slow down much when you’re running downhill.

When we turned onto Columbus Boulevard, the course leveled out.  Then I reached an aid station.  I was still cold, so I didn’t feel any need to drink anything yet.  I stopped to drink some Gatorade anyway.  Stopping briefly and then restarting gave me a chance to hit the reset button on my pace.  As I resumed running, more of the runners around me were passing me.

My pace in mile three wasn’t really any slower than the first two miles.  I attributed that to that mile being partially downhill.  Still, the next time I reached an aid station, I walked briefly while drinking Gatorade, and I tried to hit the reset button again.

Whenever I wear the cheetah gear, I get lots of shout-outs from the crowd.  I also get comments from other runners.  At least twice per mile, another runner would say they loved my outfit.

Running through the historic district, I only had a vague sense of where I was.  I could tell I was running through older neighborhoods, but I wasn’t looking for landmarks.  I was more aware of the crowds.  They were starting to get thick here, and they were making noise for us.

I never noticed the sign for four miles.  When I got to five miles, I noticed that my average pace had slowed, but not by that much.  It occurred to me for the first time that I was running fast enough to qualify for the Boston Marathon.  For my age group, the qualifying standard is 3:50, which is an average pace of about 8:46.  My average pace so far was just a little slower than 8:30.

It's getting increasingly common for spectators at races to hold homemade signs.  Some are made to encourage specific runners.  Others are humorous or meant to be encouraging to anyone.  As we ran back through the city center, I noticed a sign with pictures of cats on it.  As I turned to read it, I saw it read, “Big Cat Energy.”  I was dressed like a big cat, so I waved.

Just before seven miles, we crossed the Schuylkill River.  We would remain on the west side of the river for almost six miles.  This course isn’t as hilly as the New York City Marathon, but the middle miles have some rolling hills.  The first hill comes between seven and eight miles.  After making a couple more turns, I saw the hill.  It wasn’t steep, but it was uphill for several blocks.

My average pace was gradually slowing, but it was still under 8:40.  I was still on pace for a Boston-qualifying time.  I wasn’t convinced that this pace was sustainable, but I also wasn’t convinced that it wasn’t.  I felt like I was putting some effort into my pace, but I never felt like the effort was going to break me.

Going up this first hill, I picked up my effort.  I was careful not to overdo my effort, but I also didn’t want to give back a lot of time by getting lazy on the hills.

After cresting the hill, I enjoyed a nice downhill section.  In New York, I had discomfort in my right knee after the downhill side of each bridge.  This was the first real test of how my knee would feel on hills today.  It passed.

I saw another spectator with a sign that caught my attention.  It read, “Run Like a Gazelle.”  Since I was dressed like a cheetah, I was tempted to say something like, “I eat gazelles for breakfast.”  I didn’t.  Ten years ago, when I was much faster, I might’ve been cocky enough to say that.”  I’m not as fast as I used to be.  I don’t feel like I’m fast enough to be wearing the cheetah gear, much less talking it up.  At best, I’m fast for my age.  I’m an aging cheetah, and I probably couldn’t catch a gazelle.

At nine miles, we began an out-and-back section that had a loop in the middle.  This part of the course didn’t look familiar.  I’ve run this race twice before, but the last time was seven years ago.  I knew the general layout of the course, but I didn’t remember all the details.  As it turns out, this section was new.

Going out, it started out downhill, but then turned uphill.  I realized I would have to do the same down and up later, but in the opposite direction.  I moved to the center of the street, so I could more easily look for people I know among the faster runners coming back.  I didn’t recognize anyone.  Then I started the loop through Fairmount Park

For the first time, I started thinking seriously about trying to sustain a Boston-qualifying pace for the whole race.  I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to try.  If it was any other round number, such as four hours, I probably would’ve retreated into my comfort zone.  Qualifying for Boston is different.  I don’t have a qualifying time yet for the 2023 Boston Marathon.  If I could knock that off, it would take a lot of pressure off me in the coming months.  I didn’t know if it was possible, but if it was, I had to try.

For the next several miles, I felt like I had two voices whispering in my ears.  One was telling me I had to pick up my effort enough to stay on pace.  The other was telling me I had to ease up a bit and make sure I didn’t wear myself out.  I didn’t know which one to listen to.  I vacillated between the two.

Mile 11 was the first one that wasn’t on pace for a Boston qualifier.  I ran that one in 9:02, despite putting more effort into that mile.  Then in mile 12, I sped up to 8:05, despite relaxing a bit.  That was my fastest mile so far, although it’s worth noting it was a downhill mile.

After running the out-and-back part in the other direction, I crossed the Schuylkill River again.  The rest of the race would be on the east side of the river.  I was expecting it to be one long out-and-back that followed the river.  It wasn’t.  First, we had another section that included a short out-and-back, and had a loop in the middle.  This time, I was sure.  This was not part of the course I ran in 2012 or 2014.  I was expecting the rest of the race to be mostly flat, but this section had more gently rolling hills.

I reached the halfway mark in 1:53:36.  I was on pace for a Boston qualifier with almost a minute and a half to spare.  It’s worth noting however, that the first half of the race included some fast miles at the beginning.  I wasn’t expecting to have fast miles like that in the second half of the race.  At this point in the race, a Boston qualifier still seemed possible, but negative splits seemed unlikely.

One of two things was going to happen.  In one scenario, I would get more confident as I put more miles behind me.  The fewer miles I had left, the more likely I could sustain my pace.  In the other scenario, each mile would add a little to my fatigue, until I eventually reached my breaking point.  I’ve had both of these experiences in multiple races.  I didn’t know yet which way it would go today.  Maybe that’s why I love to race.  You can get halfway through a race and not know what you’re made of, but you always find out in the second half.

The end of this section was noticeably downhill.  In New York, I always adjusted my stride on the downhill sides of the bridges.  My only concern was minimizing the stress on my right knee.  This time, I had other priorities.  I ran down this hill for all it was worth.  I wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to pick up my pace.

Shortly before 16 miles, I turned onto Kelly Drive, which follows the Schuylkill River.  I only had 10+ miles to go, but I was finally on the long out-and-back I had anticipated.  I was mostly done with hills now.

When I reached the 16 mile mark, I saw I ran that mile in 8:10.  I couldn’t believe it.  That obviously improved my chances of staying on pace for a Boston qualifier, but I still had a lot of miles ahead of me.  I wasn’t confident yet.

I saw runners coming back on the other side of the road.  They had to be only about two miles from the finish.  They were about eight miles ahead of me.  I paid attention to the colored bands on the sides of their race bibs.  They were all either gold or red.  Those were the two fastest corrals.

Most of the runners coming back were men, but several were women.  I noticed three things about the women.  First, they were all wearing their most serious game faces.  They were racing hard.  Second, they all had gold bands on the side of their race bibs.  Third, unlike my race bib, which said, “blue,” theirs said, “elite.”  The elite men were past this point, but I was getting to watch the elite women race toward the final two miles.

Watching the faster runners briefly distracted me from my own pace and effort.  It was a welcome distraction.  I was still keeping up with the runners around me, but I wasn’t as conscious of how hard I was working.

When I got to 17 miles, I saw I ran that mile in 8:20.  That made two fast miles in a row.  I was comfortably ahead of the pace I needed, I was running just as fast as I did in the early miles, and I was almost two thirds done.  Now I believed!  For the rest of the race, I ran with confidence.  Now there was only one voice in my head.  I was racing for a BQ, and I would push hard to stay on pace.

As I continued along the river, I kept watching the runners coming back.  I spotted my friend Cade.  I knew he was here, but I didn’t know if I would see him this weekend.  As it turns out, he’s the only runner I recognized along the course.

I saw a group of spectators who were all dressed as different animals.  I thought, “These are my people.”  Then one of  them pointed at me and said, “He’s OK.”

I never noticed the sign for 18 miles.  When I got to 19 miles, I observed that miles 18 and 19 weren’t as fast as miles 16 and 17, but they were fast enough.  I also realized that I only needed to run nine minutes per mile the rest of the way.  That seemed like it should be easy.  Then I remembered that my fastest stretch during the New York City Marathon was between 5K and 10K, and that was an average pace of 9:01.

Before reaching the turnaround, we ran through Manayunk, where there’s always a beer stop.  I spotted several spectators on the side of the road offering beers.  Normally, I would indulge, but I was now racing for a BQ, and I wouldn’t do anything to endanger that.  Still, they didn’t make it easy to resist.  We had our names printed on our race bibs.  One guy looked at me and said, “David, you want a beer!”  Did I mention he was wearing horns?  I had my own personal demon, but I resisted temptation.

The crowds in Manayunk were great.  I needed that.  Looking ahead, I could see it was slightly uphill just before the turnaround.  I had to dig a little deeper, but then I was able to use the downhill coming back.

Before leaving Manayunk, I had to pass through the beer stop gauntlet again.  They were on both sides of the street.  This time, one looked right into my eyes and said, “You want a beer.”  I resisted temptation again.  I was on a mission.

With each passing mile, I recomputed the pace I needed the rest of the way to finish in 3:50.  With 3.2 miles to go, I just needed to average 10 minutes per mile.  I could afford to slack off, but I didn’t.  With 2.2 miles to go, I just needed to average 11 minutes per mile.  I could afford to relax, but instead I dug deep.  I was no longer racing to break 3:50.  Now, I wanted to break 3:47, and I was confident I could do it.  Why 3:47?  At the halfway point, I was on pace for 3:47:12.  I wanted to run negative splits to put an exclamation point on today’s effort.

The last mile was the only one that was truly difficult.  I was feeling the fatigue, but I didn’t want to let up.  I knew we had to run past the Philadelphia Museum of Art before reaching the finish line.  I kept looking for it, but I never saw it.  Amazingly, I got all the way to 26 miles, and I never saw the museum ahead of me.  Then I realized I was already running by it.  It was on my right.  All that was left was running the last 385 yards to the finish line.  It seemed longer, but I never let up.  I finished in 3:46:28.  I ran negative splits by almost a minute.

I got a space blanket, which I knew I would need.  I didn’t realize how much I would need it.  More on that later.

I got my finisher medal and walked through the food tent.  I had some orange juice, an energy bar, and a cup of chicken broth.  At another tent, I got a chicken hot dog.  Then I made my way to the gear check trucks.

Standard procedure is for the volunteers to sort the bags while we’re running the race.  After the race, you go to the appropriate truck and tell them your number.  Since the bags are sorted numerically, they can go right to your bag and hand it to you.

That’s how it’s supposed to work.  That’s how it worked at every truck but one.  The bags in truck #4 didn’t get sorted before runners started showing up to retrieve their bags.  The only way they could retrieve a bag on request was to go through every bag on the truck to look for one with a matching number.  That obviously doesn’t work.  There were hundreds of bags on the truck.

Remember when I got into the shortest line for a gear check truck?  Guess which truck it was.  That’s right, I picked truck #4.

When I got there, dozens of runners were already waiting for their bags.  The volunteers on the truck did the only thing they could do at this point.  They would pick up a bag and read off the number.  Does anyone have #358?  At first, they would call out several numbers before finding a bag whose owner was waiting.  As more and more runners made their way over there, the probability of a bag belonging to someone already waiting increased.  Still, it was a painfully slow process.  Several of us were waiting for well over an hour.

As some volunteers were handing out bags, other were trying to sort the remaining bags.  In time, it became possible for them to look for a specific number.  When they asked me the number of my bag, I said ,“131,” which was the number on the wristband they gave me.  More than once, I was told, “We don’t have a 131."  Are you sure you have the right truck?”  More than once, I doublechecked that my wristband said truck #4.

Eventually, one of the volunteers invited me to come into the truck.  He led me to the other end and confided that there were a few bags with no numbers on them.  Maybe the volunteer who collected my bag forgot to tag it with the number that matched the wristband she gave me.  Maybe the number fell off.  There were only a few bags without numbers, and I quickly recognized mine.

I was standing there in the cold for nearly an hour and a half before I got my gear bag.  The only thing that kept me from freezing was that space blanket I was wrapped in.  I started walking back to the hotel.  It was about a mile and a half, and I wasn’t walking as briskly as I was in the morning, but now I could wrap myself in my poncho, in addition to the space blanket.

While I was walking back, I was talking on the phone with Deb.  She could hear something jingling, and she asked me what it was.  It was my finisher medal.  The design included the Liberty Bell, and the bell had a working clapper.  The bell rang as I walked.


I finished the race before 11:00, but I didn’t get back to the hotel until 1:00.  I took a hot bath and did some stretches.  That helped, but my knee got stiff during the long wait for my gear bag.  It doesn’t hurt walking on level ground but it probably would hurt to go up or down steps.  Thankfully, I wouldn’t have to do any steps today.  I expect some soreness walking down the steps in the train station tomorrow.

The guys in Manayunk were right.  I did want a beer.  I just wasn’t willing to give up any time during the race.  Now that the race is over, I plan to visit a brewery after dinner.


Race Statistics
Distance:  26.2 miles
Time:  3:46:28
Average Pace:  8:38
Lifetime Marathons/Ultras:  445
Pennsylvania Marathons:  5
Boston Qualifiers:  149

Monday, November 8, 2021

Race Report: 2021 New York City Marathon

On November 7, I ran the New York City Marathon.  I was originally signed up to run this race in 2020, but it was cancelled because of COVID-19.  I had the choice of taking a refund or deferring my entry to 2021, 2022, or 2023.  I didn’t know which year I would get in, but I opted to defer.  I selected 2021 as my first choice without knowing if the race would happen this year.  As it turns out, everyone who selected 2021 as their first choice got in.


This is the fourth time I’ve done this race.  I also ran it in 1989, 2011, and 2018.  I was signed up for the race in 2012, but it was cancelled that year because of Hurricane Sandy.  This is the only race where I’ve experience cancellations in two different years.

Every time I’ve done this race, I’ve stayed at a different hotel, but it’s always somewhere in Manhattan.  This year, I was at a hotel that was one block north of the Empire State Building.  It was a convenient location.  I was close to the Herald Square and within walking distance of Penn Station, which gave me quick access to multiple subway lines.  I was also within half a mile of the library, where I would need to board a bus to get to the start.

In the past, I’ve always taken a taxi from the airport.  This year, I used public transportation.  I had to take a bus and then transfer to the subway.  One of the trains had to divert to different tracks because of an unauthorized person on the tracks.  I wasn’t sure what stops that train would go through, so I got off at a station where I could switch to a different train that I knew would go to Herald Square.  It took a little longer than I expected, but it was still faster than the taxi ride would’ve been.  It was also less expensive.  Using trains and buses for the whole weekend cost less than a one-way taxi ride.  I got to my hotel around 4:00.

To enter restaurants and most other indoor venues in New York City, you have to show proof of vaccination.  The state of New York has an app for that, but it’s tied directly to the state’s vaccination records, so it’s of no use to visitors from out of state.  The city has their own app, called NYC COVID Safe, which I downloaded before the trip.  It’s fairly simply.  You upload pictures of your vaccination card and your ID and use the app to show them whenever you enter a building where proof of vaccination is required.  It can also be used to store test results.

I had dinner at a pizzeria in Brooklyn with some friends who live nearby.  I’ve been to several pizzerias in Manhattan, but this was the first time I had pizza in Brooklyn.

After getting back to Manhattan, I stopped at a taproom near my hotel, where you can pour your own beer from 40 different taps.

I have a long history of insomnia.  At home, I can keep the house at a temperature that’s just right for sleeping.  In a hotel room, there’s a little bit of trial and error.  The first night is always the most difficult.  A combination of factors made it difficult to sleep.  I was still awake at 2:00 AM.  After that, I got some good sleep.  I tried to sleep in, but I woke up earlier than I needed to.

The expo was held at the Javits Convention Center.  Like other public buildings, you had to show proof of vaccination to enter.  Runners who weren’t vaccinated could make arrangements to pick up their race packets in a tent outside the building, but they had to show a negative test result.

To limit congestion at the expo, we had to make an appointment to visit at a specific time.  I chose to visit the expo between 9:00 and 10:00 Saturday morning.  That left the rest of the day open.  The only downside is that I couldn’t participate in the Abbott Dash to the Finish Line 5K, which was taking place at the same time.  I most likely wouldn’t have done that anyway.  I usually rest the day before a race.

After picking up my race packet, I looked at the official merchandise and then visited the booths of a few other exhibitors.  The expo was scaled down quite a bit compared to previous years.  There were only about 20 exhibitors.  I made a point of stopping by the Marathon Tours & Travel booth to find out about future international races.  I also stopped by the booth for the pace team, since I know some of the pacers.

After the expo, I went back to my hotel to drop off my race packet.  Then I went to Times Square to meet other runners for a group photo.  I saw several friends who I knew were doing this race.  I also saw a few that I didn’t know were going to be here.


After the group photo, a bunch of us went to lunch together.  By the time we left the restaurant, it was already 2:00.  I stopped at my hotel to organize my clothes for the race.  Then I went to the upper east side to make a pilgrimage to the Pony Bar.  If you’re familiar with the Untappd app, that’s one of the favorite hang-outs of the founders of that app.

Each trip on the subway meant going up and down multiple flights of steps.  The steps weren’t bothering my knee, which was a really good sign.  Still, I was spending too much time on my feet, so I went back to the hotel to rest.  I’ve been to New York a few times before, so I didn’t feel the need to go out and do a lot of sightseeing.

For dinner, I stayed close to the hotel.  I found a place just down the block from my hotel that had pizza, good drinks, and a heated outdoor seating area.  I was pretty tired after only sleeping for a few hours Friday night, so I went to bed early.  Not sleeping well Friday night proved to be a blessing in disguise, because it made it possible for me to get to sleep quickly, and I slept well for most of the night.

Sunday was race day.  I had to set my alarm for 4:30 AM, but it was the day we set the clocks back, so it felt more like 5:30.  I was already awake at 4:00, so I got up and started getting ready.

From Manhattan, there are two ways to get to the start on Staten Island.  One is to take a bus from midtown.  The other is to take the Staten Island Ferry.  If you take the ferry, you still need to wait for a bus to take you form the ferry terminal to the start village at Fort Wadsworth.  For that reason, I’ve always found it simpler to just take the bus from midtown.

The buses load in front of the New York Public Library, which is next to Bryant Park.  From my hotel, that was about a 10-minute walk.  We had to sign up for when we wanted to board a bus.  For runners in my wave, the only options were 5:15 or 5:45.  I opted for 5:45, which was still awfully early, considering I wouldn’t start running until 9:55.

I got to the library at 5:35.  There was a long line to board the buses, but it moved fast.  At 5:45, I was on a bus, and we pulled away a minute later.  It took almost an hour to get to Fort Wadsworth.  That still gave me more than three hours of waiting in the start village.

The long wait in the cold is the only part of the New York City Marathon experience that I don’t like.  I’ve done this race enough times that I came prepared.  I brought a space blanket from another race, so I wouldn’t have to sit on damp grass.  I also brought extra layers of clothes to keep me warm.  There’s no gear check at the start, so any clothes that you’re not going to wear during the race need to be left behind.  Clothes left in the start village all get donated.

When I arrived in the start village, it was 40 degrees, but it warmed up several degrees before it was time for me to start.  By the time I finished the race, it would warm into the 50s, but I still wore tights to keep my legs warm in the early miles.  I opted for my signature cheetah tights, and also wore the matching shirt, hat, and facemask.

I don’t usually keep my phone with me when I run, but I rely on it to figure out which trains to take, and I was planning to take the subway to get back to my hotel after the race.  Since I had it with me, I also used it to take pictures during the race.  I also took a few pictures in the start village.


I was dressed warm, but I forgot to bring something to cover my ears.  Dunkin’ came to my rescue.  They’re a major sponsor, and they always have people in the start village giving out coffee, bagels, and souvenir hats.  I picked up a hat, which gave me something to keep my ears warm.  I still ran wearing the cheetah hat, but I was able to fit the Dunkin’ hat in my fanny pack, so I could keep it as a souvenir.


While I was waiting in the start village, I recognized Claire, whom I met Saturday at lunch.  She was doing her 100th marathon, and she was wearing a small crown that said 100.  That made her easy to spot.  Claire was with a friend, and the three of us waited in the start village together.  We found a patch of grass in the sun and spread out my space blanket and some trash bags that Claire brought.  She brought a whole roll, and she was giving them to anyone who looked cold.


There were 33,000 runners in this year’s race.  That about 60% of the pre-pandemic field size.  Still, it’s by far the largest race I’ve done since the pandemic started.  To reduce crowding, they had more waves than usual, and the start times for the waves were staggered by 40-45 minutes.  By the time the runners in the last wave started, the fastest runners from the first wave were already done.

They had a big screen where they displayed instructions for when each group should head to the start corrals.  After the elite women started, we got to watch the live TV footage as they ran onto the bridge.  The coverage ended when they needed to display more instructions, but then I heard people start cheering.  I looked toward the bridge, and I could see them on the bridge.

Jim Diego, who lives in New York, sang the National Anthem before the start of the second wave.  Besides finishing marathons in all 50 states, Jim has sung the national anthem at races in all 50 states.  He sang beautifully, but he was too far away for me to take a picture.

Because the start village is a fort, they can use a cannon as the starting gun.  We heard the cannon blasts in the start village each time a different group started.  When I got up onto the road myself, I was standing about 25 feet from two cannons.  I didn’t know which one they were going to use, but I knew it would be loud.  Just before they fired it, I put my fingers in my ears to muffle the sound.


I first did this race in 1989.  Back then, the field was only 25,000 runners, but everyone started at the same time.  With five waves, there were only about 6,000 runners starting at one time.  As usual, each wave was divided into three start group.  As we started the race and ran onto the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, the blue start group used one side of the upper deck, the orange group used the other side of the upper deck, and the green group used one side of the lower deck.  Each start group only had about 2,000 runners, so the start wasn’t any more crowded than a medium-sized race.

For the first time since January, I ran the entire race.  I’ve done enough running to start gaining confidence in my knee, but not enough to be in shape to run a fast time.  Most of my training has been in the form of race-walking.  I didn’t have any goals other than to finish and to enjoy the experience.

The first two miles of the race are on the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge.  This is the biggest hill on the course.  The first half is uphill, and the second half is downhill.  I wasn’t too worried about the uphill half.  I used that mile to get warmed up.


Which views you get depend on which start group you’re in.  I was in the orange start group, so I was on the westbound lanes of the upper deck.  That gave me views of lower Manhattan and the harbor.


It was the second mile that worried me.  My knee has been doing fine on flat or uphill miles, but still gets slightly inflamed after downhill running.  To minimize the impact on my knee, I took short rapid strides.  I didn’t worry if I sped up.  By the end of the second mile, I was right behind the 3:40 pace group.  I knew their pace was way too fast for me, but I could always slow down once I got off the bridge.

Each start group leaves the bridge on a different ramp, so they have to take slightly different routes before eventually merging together.  Just after getting off the bridge, we merged with the blue group.  About a mile later, we merged with the green group.

Now that I was on level ground, I eased back into a more sensible pace.  I gradually fell behind the 3:40 group and before long they were out of sight.  I wasn’t paying any attention to my pace.  I decided not to look at my watch until the halfway mark.  Still, I has reason to suspect I was still going too fast.  The slowest pace group in my wave was the 3:50 group.  The 4:00 group was in the next wave, which wouldn’t start until 45 minutes after my wave.  I really didn’t belong in this wave.  I originally got into the race with a qualifying time, and I was seeded according to that time.  I knew I wouldn’t be that fast.  My best guess is that my time would be between 4:10 and 4:20.  Even that seemed optimistic.  Some people were passing me, but I was almost keeping up with the runners around me.  As song as I was keeping up with most of the runners around me, I had to be going too fast.

The crowds in Brooklyn are mostly local residents.  I often get the sense that they take pride in being from Brooklyn more than New York City as a whole.  Beyond that, each neighborhood has its own character.


Over the next few miles, I gradually moved back through the pack, but probably not as much as I should.  In the back of my mind, I had this fear that if I slowed down too much, I might fall off the back of my wave.  Usually, in races with multiple waves, the fastest runners from one wave will eventually catch up to the slowest runners from the previous wave.  After that, they all blend together.

I wasn’t so sure that would happen in this race.  I was in wave 2, which started at 9:55.  Wave three didn’t start until 10:40.  That’s a difference of 45 minutes.  If a runner in wave 3 was going a minute per mile faster than me, they wouldn’t catch me before the end of the race.  If they were going two minutes per mile faster, they wouldn’t catch me until late in the race.  If I fell off the back of my wave, I’d be running all by myself, and it would feel like I was at the back of the race.

That made me wonder what it was like for the spectators.  Would it seem like there were five separate races, with long gaps between them?  That’s not even counting the elite runners and wheelchair athletes, who had earlier start times.

It’s getting more and more common for spectators to hold up signs.  Some you see at every race.  I like the signs that are new or different.  My favorite sign in Brooklyn was one that read, “There’s No Vaccine for Marathon Fever.”

About five miles into the race, I started to notice some stiffness in the back of my neck.  I’m not sure what was causing that, but it never got better.  It bothered me for the rest of the race.

I’m not that familiar with the major landmarks of Brooklyn.  I recognized this building, but I don’t know it’s called.  I just know that when I get there, I’m about halfway through Brooklyn.


Interestingly enough, when I got there, I heard the lyrics, “Whoa.  We're half way there.”  A local band was playing “Livin’ on a Prayer,”  I enjoyed the timeliness of those lyrics.

About eight miles into the race, I started to noticed some fatigue in my legs.  That confirmed that I was probably going too fast.  I also noticed some slight discomfort in my right knee.  I suspect that wasn’t from my pace or the number of miles I had run.  More likely, that soreness was the result of the downhill running on the second half of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, but it took several miles before I started to feel it.  Usually, if I aggravate my knee by running downhill, I don’t notice it until the next time I walk up or down steps.

While I don’t know the landmarks of Brooklyn, I did recognize a few murals on building that we ran by.


The first spectators you see in Brooklyn might welcome you to Brooklyn.  After that, the local spectators are more likely to welcome you to their neighborhood.  I heard a man with a megaphone yelling, “Welcome to Williamsburg.”

The soreness in my knee gradually faded away.  The fatigue in my legs did too.  I think I felt that while running slightly uphill.  The next time I reached a section that was slightly downhill, it got easier again.  Now I seemed like I was keeping up with most of the runners around me.  I was even passing a few.

There was one neighborhood in Brooklyn where the crowds were unusually thick.  It was between 11 and 12 miles.  It was just for a few blocks, but people were lined up five rows deep on either side of the street.

The halfway point of the race comes in the middle of the Pulaski Bridge.  This draw-bridge over Newtown Creek is where we left Brooklyn and entered Queens.  For the first time in the race, I looked at the watch.  I was on pace for 4:05.  That was faster than I originally expected to run, but it wasn’t surprising, considering I was keeping up with the majority of the runners around me since the beginning of the race.


The Pulaski Bridge was the first real hill since the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge.  On the downhill side, I had to remind myself once again to take short rapid strides.  My knee didn’t bother me on the bridge, but I started to notice it shortly after leaving the bridge.  The discomfort didn’t last long, but it was a troubling sign.

The race visits all five boroughs, but it does spend an equal amount of time in each one.  Most of the race is in Brooklyn and Manhattan.  The start village was on Staten Island, but once we started running, the first thing we did was to leave the island.  We were in Queens now, but only for about two miles.

After the Pulaski Bridge, I ran conservatively for about a mile.  The discomfort in my right knee faded quickly, and I got more confident.  I started to pick up the pace to the point where I was starting to pass some of the runners around me.  I don’t think I was going as fast as I was earlier in the race, but now I was moving up in the field.

As with Brooklyn, most of the spectators in Queens were local residents who come out to watch the race every year.  That point was punctuated by one spectator who held up a sign that read, “I Waited 735 Days to Hold This Sign.”  That was a reference to the fact that last year’s race was cancelled.

I’m only familiar with one major landmark in Queens.  That’s the Queensboro Bridge, which would take us into Manhattan.  With each turn, I was aware of where we were in relation to the ramp onto the bridge.

The Queensboro Bridge is the second largest hill on the course.  The Verrazano-Narrows Bridge won’t break you, because you run it with fresh legs.  By the time you get onto the Queensboro Bridge, your legs are already getting tired.  That’s particularly true if you ran too fast going through Brooklyn.  This is where you start to pay for it.  For that reason, I know I’m not home free unless I get over this bridge comfortably.

We were running in the traffic lanes on the lower level of the bridge, so our views of the East River and Lower Manhattan were usually obstructed.  This was the best view I could get at first.


Later, there were a couple of spots where it was possible to leave the roadway and go out onto the sidewalk.  I briefly left the course to try to get a better picture of the Manhattan Skyline.  My fingers were sweaty, and I had trouble with the touchscreen on my phone.  More than once, I accidentally put my camera app into video mode, so I didn’t get the pictures I thought I was taking.  I wasted a lot of time trying to take pictures, but not getting any.

Even when I wasn’t stopping to take pictures, my pace slowed considerable on the uphill side of the bridge.  Most of the other runners were passing me now.  It was here that I knew for sure that I would be slower in the second half than I was in the first half.

As the bridge leveled off, running got easier, and I was able to keep up with the runners around me.  As we began descending, I focused on keeping my stride short and my cadence rapid.  That worked fine at first.  Then we turned onto the ramp that would lead us down to street level.  There, the grade was uncomfortable.  I started to notice my knee. Previously, it only bothered me after running downhill.  This was the first time it bothered me while I was still running downhill.

The ramp off the bridge ended with a U-turn onto 59th Street, which led us down to 1st Avenue.  We turned left and ran under the bridge.  Then we crossed 60th Street and immediately heard the crowd noise.

On this section of 1st Avenue, most of the spectators are friends or family of runners.  Most runners visiting from out of town stay in Manhattan.  For people staying in Manhattan hotels, this is the first part of the course that’s easy to reach.  It’s also convenient, because after seeing runners here, they can walk over to 5th Avenue to see them again.

Here, there were barricades to keep the spectators out of the street.  Behind the barricades, there were rows of spectators, and they were making noise.


The crowds on 1st Avenue got me pumped up.  I picked up my effort.  I don’t know how much I actually sped up, but I started moving up through the field.


We would follow 1st Avenue for about four miles, before eventually reaching the Bronx.  I picked up my effort for a mile or two, but eventually, I had to back off.  There were too many miles left to sustain that effort.

As I reached 74th Street, I glanced to my left and saw a Neapolitan Pizzeria called Numero 28.  I had walked right past this same pizzeria on Saturday while I was on my way to the Pony Bar.

Some time after the 19-mile mark, I saw a hill in the distance.  I recognized it as the ramp up to the Willis Avenue Bridge, which would take us from Manhattan to the Bronx.


The bridges were the only places where you generally didn’t see any spectators.  This one was the exception.  Halfway across the bridge, there was a guy with a megaphone yelling, “Welcome to The Bronx.  Just down the hill, it’s 20.  10K to go.”  Sure enough, after running down the hill, I turned left and saw the 20 mile sign.

We were only in the Bronx for about a mile.  As we were approaching the bridge that would take us back into Manhattan, I saw this sign.  I would’ve been disappointed if I didn’t.


As I ran onto the bridge, I heard a spectator with a megaphone yell, “No more bridges, I promise you.”  This is the last bridge, but it isn’t the last hill.  Later, in Central Park, there are some rolling hills.  As I came off the bridge, I saw the 21-mile mark.  With 5.2 miles to go, I felt confident I could maintain my effort the rest of the way.  That didn’t necessarily mean I would maintain my pace.  I had no idea how fast I was running.  It was entirely possibly I would put in the same effort, but slow down nevertheless.

As we made out way south on 5th Avenue, there was a group playing some music, and one of the runners ahead of me stopped briefly to show off her dance moves.  That got the crowd roaring.  I wouldn’t have had the energy for that.

There’s a brief detour off of 5th Avenue, where we go around Marcus Garvey Park.  As I neared the southwest corner of the park, I hear a spectator shout,” 4 miles to go.”  I never noticed the 22-mile sign, but that sounded about right.  I can still remember it was at this same point in the 1989 race that I started coming apart.

Whenever I run wearing my cheetah outfit, I get lots of comments from the spectators.  I don’t know how many times I was told I had the best outfit.  After we got back onto 5th Avenue, another runner came alongside of me and said I looked good.  Unlike the spectators, she wasn’t just talking about my outfit.  She thought I was running strong, and said she had been following me for the last 13 miles.  I recognized her as the same woman who stopped to dance earlier.

That motivated me to keep up my effort for the last three miles.  I felt like I was accelerating, but I was probably just working harder to go the same pace.  In any event, I was now passing most of the runners around me.

Around 24 miles, we entered Central Park.  The road we took through the park was rolling.  Going uphill wasn’t bad, but I eventually reached a downhill section where I once again had to worry about my knee.  There were so many spectators in the park that there was only one lane available for the runners.  That made it more difficult to find room to pass people.

I passed the 25-mile mark and made the turn onto Central Park South.  It was only three blocks to Columbus Circle, but these were long blocks.  I knew at this point in the race I should be able to put on a surge, but I couldn’t find the motivation.  I hadn’t looked at my watch since the halfway mark.  I didn’t have any idea what my time would be, nor did I have a goal.  If I was chasing a time goal, I would’ve worked harder to shave off a few seconds.  Instead, I just kept up my effort.

I passed a sign that read 800 meters to go.  That’s about half a mile.  I didn’t think I sustain a faster pace for that far.  Soon, I re-entered the park at Columbus Circle.  I couldn’t see the finish line yet, but I knew about how far it was.  Finally, I found the energy to race to the finish.


I finished in 4:12:42.  That’s roughly what I expected.  I haven’t really trained to run a marathon.  Lately, I’ve been training to walk marathons.  It’s nice to know I can run the whole way without the late miles getting difficult.  Getting faster will take training, but I can’t do that until my knee gets better.

I finished just a few seconds after the woman who had made a comment earlier.  She explained that she constantly heard the crowd reacting to my cheetah outfit.  Hearing that extra energy from the crowd helped her too.

I know I get extra shout-outs from the crowd when I wear this outfit, but I’ve never had the chance to compare how the crowd sounds for me and how the crowd sounds for everyone else.  Apparently, there’s a noticeable difference.

As I started moving through the finish area, I received my medal and a bag with food and beverages.  The medals were larger this year.  I don’t know if that’s because it was the 50th NYC Marathon, or if it’s because medals seem to be getting larger at all races.


Next, I received my poncho.  For runners who opted not to check a bag with warm clothes, the ponchos helped us stay warm as we made our way home.


In past years, we had to walk a long way before exiting Central Park.  This year, we were able to exit at 72nd Street.  It’s the quickest I’ve ever exited the park after the race.  I made a quick bathroom stop, and then made my way to the closest subway station.

My knee wasn’t bothering me until I started walking down the steps in the subway station.  From the first step, I noticed my knee.  This was the first test of how my knee held up.  It wasn’t promising.

The quickest way back to the hotel would’ve been to take the C train for one stop and then take a D train from there to Herald Square.  Unfortunately, that would involve going up and down steps in the Columbus Circle station to get to the platform for the D train.  I chose instead to just stay on the C train and get off at Penn Station.  It meant walking a few extra blocks to get to my hotel, but I wouldn’t have to do any extra stairs.

Ideally, I should’ve iced my knee.  I didn’t want to take the time to get ice and make an ice pack, so I just took a warm bath and did some stretching.  That wasn’t enough.  Later in the day, I noticed soreness in my knee any time I moved around, not just on steps.

I could’ve gone anywhere for dinner if I was willing to take the subway, but I wanted to avoid stairs for the rest of the day.  I opted to have dinner at an Irish pub that was just around the block from my hotel.

Monday morning, I was still noticing the knee.  I took the subway most of the way to the airport, so I couldn’t avoid going up and down stairs.  My knee felt worse on the steps than it did on Sunday.  The last few times I felt knee discomfort after running, it went away within 48 hours.  Only time will tell how quickly I recover this time.


Race Statistics
Distance:  26.2 miles
Time:  4:12:42
Average Pace:  9:38
Lifetime Marathons/Ultras:  444
World Marathon Majors:  21