Race Week

Make her proud, chubby little blonde kid

The race is Sunday (Sandy permitting), and the one thing that has consumed my life since May will come to an end. The training has gone better than I could have ever expected. I’ve worked my ass off but feel absolutely great. There’s no excuse for not hitting my time goal. This race is something I’ve dreamed about for years. Within days it will become very real, and I already have the butterflies to prove it. The marathon is a strange beast. You train and sacrifice and plan your life down to the smallest detail for 4 months just so you can perform well on that one day. And even on that one day, you still don’t know if all of the hard work paid off until you’re 22 miles into the race. That’s a lot of pressure but man, is it exciting.

There are so many things that I’m anticipating: My excitement at the start, the scope and grandeur of the course and how I fare in those final, horrible miles. But more than anything, I’m anticipating meeting my fellow runners, experiencing the crowds and feeling that overall sense of goodness that everyone who describes this race talks about. I read somewhere that if you begin to lose your faith in people, go be part of a marathon. I want to see that firsthand.

I’ll be making this trip with a twinge of sadness however. I guess on a journey like this, losing something along the way was strangely appropriate. Still, I will be at that starting line. I will focus, and I will run well. The day may not go quite how I imagined, but life rarely does. We adapt, press forward and keep running. Last week, I woke up for an early run before work. Outside it was pitch black and pouring rain. I sucked it up, grabbed my reluctant four-legged running partner and stepped out my door and into the rain. Within 15 minutes, the rain had stopped, the sky cleared and I saw something that I had never seen before. Two brilliant shooting stars streaked across the sky side by side for longer than I thought possible. A miserable start had turned into a terrific memory. A metaphor for life, I suppose.

If you’re at all interested in tracking me as I race on Sunday, the link is below. I start at 9:40 am, Eastern, and my bib number is 7553. ESPN2 will also be broadcasting the race, but I’ve been told that I will not be prominently featured on this broadcast. Wish me luck, everyone. I’ll let you know next week how it all went down.

http://www.nycmarathon.org/entrantinfo/trackmyrunner.htm

Mock Marathon

I've read countless articles and blogs that describe the NYC Marathon. I know the course. I know when to expect hills, and I've been told that that vibe is electric from start to finish. Still, I have no idea what I'm in for. Running through the Five Burroughs with 45,000 people and 1 million spectators is not something that can be experienced online, but that hasn't stopped me from imaging the race in my head a million times. So here is what I think might happen on Sunday, November 4:

4:30 a.m. - I wake up after a fitful night of sleep filled with alarm clock panic. You know, that feeling where you wake up every hour or so, worried that you slept through the alarm only to realize that wake up time is still hours away.

5 a.m. - I begin my walk down the quiet streets of Manhattan on my way to the shuttle bus that will take me to the starting area. Will there be anyone on the streets besides runners and crazy people? Or are those one and the same? I don't know if I'll be nervous, focused or excited. Probably all of these. 

6:30 a.m. - Arrive at the starting area on Staten Island. Time to settle in on a nice patch of wet grass for a couple of hours and try to stay warm. The people watching should be fun. I just hope that I can keep my nerves under control.

9:40 a.m. - After standing in the starting corral with the rest of the cattle for an hour, it's just about time to start. The national anthem plays, a cannon fires, the speakers belt out Sinatra's "New York, New York" and the sea of humanity is off. I will be full of adrenaline, but I MUST start slowly. The massive crowd should help keep me in check, but if I think that the pace is too slow, then I know I'm doing it right.

Mile 2 (The next few hours of my life will be measured only in miles.) - I imagine my thought process will be something like this: "There's the Manhattan skyline, and this is really happening. All of my work has led me here. Time to find out if I did enough."

Mile 4 - Hopefully, I'll be running well and keeping a steady pace. These are the miles where my mind tunes out and the running should be effortless.

Mile 8 -  "There certainly is a lot of commotion. Screaming crowds, cow bells, bands, choirs, funny signs. This is really fun. I love Brooklyn and all of its quirky neighborhoods."

Mile 13.1 - Technically this is the halfway point, but the pain and the struggles have not even begun. The first half is almost like a prologue to the real thing. I will get a good gauge on my pace and how I'm feeling, but anything can happen in the next 13 miles.

Mile 16 - Welcome to Manhattan! Coming down First Avenue will be as close as I ever get to my own personal ticker-tape parade. The crowds should be exhilarating. Again, keep the adrenaline in check.

Mile 18 - The miles are becoming a blur. Thankfully I catch a glimpse of friends and family. It'll be good to see their faces after miles on the road. I wonder who's having more fun, them or me. See you guys in a few miles.

Mile 19 -Supposedly when you're running long distances, most of your blood goes to the muscles meaning less blood goes to the brain. "I don't think that's true. Hey, wasn't there a Muppet that was purple? Yeah, it was Fozzy. No wait, Fozzy was a bear. Fonzo? Or was it Fonzie? Yeah, Fonzie the cool purple Muppet. Fonzie rode a unicycle. Oh, Fonzie."

Mile 20 - The Bronx and the Wall. As far as pain goes, this is the halfway point of a marathon and where the fight really begins. For most runners, their muscles can hold enough carbohydrates to sustain them for about 20 miles. After all of that energy is spent, the body begins to burn fat in a much less efficient manner. In a matter of minutes, the body basically goes from a Porsche on the Autobahn to a Winnebago going up a mountain. This is the Wall, and it's hell. If I've trained properly, I can fight through this and maybe even push it back a few miles.

Mile 23 - I should see my cheering section again in Central Park. At this point, I will desperately need their motivation and not generic motivation like "You're doing great. You're almost there." I need motivation like Rocky got in his corner before going out for Round 12 against Ivan Drago. Yes, it all comes back to Rocky IV.

Mile 25 - 1.2 miles to go, and the pain is intense and unavoidable. No matter how well I've trained or if I'm having my best day, it will be torture. My feet will feel broken, my legs shredded, my back in knots and my insides and head in turmoil. This is when I think of everyone who got me to this point and gave me their love and support. But mainly I'll think about Mom. She's the reason I'm here, and I need to make her proud. She endured pain that I can't imagine for years. At the very least, I can endure this pain for her for a few more minutes.

Finish - Done! I should be too exhausted to do anything jubilant. I'll probably do a weak fist pump then stumble around trying to catch my breath while the pain subsides. Even if I'm too tired to show excitement, I expect to be the happiest guy in New York, especially if I hit my goal time.

Finish +30 minutes - Time to reunite with the crew and hopefully celebrate.
Now how long do I need to rehydrate before I can down a beer?

Reminder: If you haven't had a chance to donate to The Pink Agenda yet and would like to, here is a link to my fundraising website.
http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/ryanbush/ryanbushsfundraisingpageforthenycmarathon