NYC Marathon 2016

"Yesterday I woke up a runner. Last night I went to sleep a marathoner."

Background

How did I get to this point? I always hated the idea of long distance running.  I was a sprinter in high school for the very brief time I spent on the track team.  What made me quit was the mandatory 4 mile runs they had us all do every day.

Fast forward to when I am 45 four years ago and a guy I worked with mentioned he was doing the "Rugged Maniac", a 5K race with a lot of wacky obstacles which made it seem more fun.  I thought I'd try it, but I figured before I do, I should probably be able to comfortably run 3 miles.  So I started training.  We got some people together and it was a lot of fun.  The weird thing that happened is that I kept on running after that.  Another thing that happened is, upon sitting on the sidelines seeing the huge number of participants of all ages in the mud run, my wife Mimi decided she wanted to take up running too.

We entered our first 5K, the Owego Strawberry Shake, in the town my grandparents lived in.  I made the rookie mistake of getting caught up in all the excitement at the start and ran a sub 7 minute mile.  Needless to say, I suffered for the next 2 miles and almost lost my breakfast as I crossed the finish line.

There was a natural progression of us going for runs, training and races since then.  Several more 5Ks.  A bigger test came in the Great Cow Harbor Run, a fantastic 10K race in October where what seems like the entire town of Northport comes out to cheer the racers.  It was tough at the time, but definitely a lot of fun.  People dress up like cows :)

I did do the very crazy Tough Mudder with 3 good friends.  This is an 11 mile course with 30 military grade obstacles which include getting electrically shocked, climbing huge walls, crawling through dark muddy tunnels, leaping over walls of fire, being completely submerged into an ice bath (the worst) and running up Everest, which is essentially one side of a half-pipe (the best).  It was quite a challenge and great to do with a team of friends.  The frustrating part was that all of the running in between the obstacles was on muddy surface, where you felt like you were going to slip at any moment.  It occurred to me then, that I really just wanted to stick to pure running.

Tough Mudder fire jump

Tough Mudder with Super Greg, Steve and his son Kyle

I found myself really enjoying just pure running.  More than just running some miles on the treadmill in the gym before lifting weights, going out on a Saturday afternoon for an hour and just finding a path to follow around my neighborhood became something I really started to look forward to.  I found a lot of peace in it.  It was almost like meditating.  The distances started getting bigger than I'd ever imagined I could conquer.  I love music and made extensive running playlists to shuffle.  I even coordinated the beats per minute of the songs I chose to mesh with my feet landing on the ground (around 88 bpm for my easy pace).  I found not only health benefits and stress relief, but the ability to eat and drink more given all the calories getting burned off.  Somewhere in all of this, I became what I always thought was boring and unpleasant - a runner.

First Half Marathon with Mimi and Steve

So the first half marathon I did was with Mimi and a friend of mine Steve, the Queens Half Marathon.  It was a great one to start with as it was mostly flat and took us around the World's Fairgrounds in Flushing Queens.  First time ever going that distance, I found out the meaning of "the wall" which hit me at 10 miles.  I was able to push through and finished very happy.  Afterward, I did say something like "that was so hard, I will never do a full marathon!"

The Summer Series Crew

Summer Series Race Jones Beach 10K in 2015

There were a few half marathons after that.  We also have been entering into the Long Island Summer Series, which is 8 weeks of 5-10K races each Monday night in the summer in a different state park on Long Island.  The races are fun and there's a great social scene afterward with food and beer.  We have a great group of friends who we've connected with at these races : Gilda, Karen, Patty, Rob, Angela, and Allison. Seems many of them had done triathlons.  Gilda, Karen and Patty had run marathons and often talked about them like anyone should be able to do them.  Gilda is somewhat of a superwoman in that not only has she done several marathons, but recently completed an Iron Man (2.5 mile swim, 110 miles on the bike, and then a 26.2 mile run) this year.  


Marathon

Many people I know at work and other friends have run a marathon.  Given all the running we were doing friends would ask me all the time about running one, but I still never thought I'd run a marathon.  Any time I attempted a training run over a half marathon distance, things seemed to go very badly.

Last year, my brother Kenan won into the lottery for the New York City marathon.  Kenan actually started becoming interested in running about a year after I did.  Our father completed the NYC Marathon twice, the second time running it in under 4 hours.  When we saw Kenan after he finished in 2015, he actually looked fine.  He was raving about the experience.  It was really hard, but he was ready to do it next year.  This definitely got me wondering about it as a possibility.

So this year I entered the lottery and didn't get in.  Then another email came saying there was "one last chance to enter" so I did.  Much to my surprise, I was selected as a participant.  The fear immediately set in.  I wasn't shy about it. I talked to so many people who had done it before.  I got the same message over and over : just follow "the plan" and you'll be fine.  What was this plan? Google "Marathon Training Plan" and the first link is to Hal Higdon's (a guy who has run 111 marathons) plan. 18 weeks away, you start.  It's basically 4 days of running per week with 2 days of rest and one day of cross-training (basically any other activity).  The big runs are on the weekend which start at 6 miles and top out at 20 miles three weeks before the marathon.  I followed the "Novice 2 Plan" pretty much to the letter.  I needed to know in my head I had done all I was supposed to in order to be ready.  Training in the summer was extremely demoralizing some days, where I found myself having to walk or hide under trees to get shade on some of the really hot days in order to make the distance.  It got easier as the weather got cooler.  I actually ran 153 miles in September! After the final big run I did (21.25 miles), the "taper" period commenced which is where you run less and less leading up to the big day.

Unfortunately, Mimi did not get in.  My brother Kenan did, so we decided to try to do the whole day together.  Our friends, Karen, Gilda and Angela also got in.  It was Angela's first time!

With Karen and Kenan pre-race

After all the planning and training, the day came.  It was all I could think about for quite some time.  My brother and I boarded a bus at 5:45 a.m. Sunday morning at Jack Rabbit Sports in Park Slope.  We got a direct ride to the starting villages in Staten Island.  Since we were starting at 11, we had about 4 hours to kill.  It's an incredibly sprawling scene at Fort Wadsworth.  It's really well organized and everyone is really nice (participants and volunteers).  It's very international : all announcements are made in English, Spanish, French, Italian and German.  We ran into Karen, which was really cool.  She gave Kenan her post-race poncho bracelet.  He'd forgotten to register for one and she had a VIP hookup and didn't need it.  It turned out to be a game changer for both Kenan and I post race.  Everyone had on throwaway clothes to keep warm, which all got tossed into large bins right before the race started to be donated.

And then it was time to start as we were walked around a series of huge buses at the toll gates at the Staten Island bridge. We ran into Rose , the girlfriend of my brother's friend Laquon.  I'd met them both a couple of holiday parties and also ran a January 10K in Riverside Park with Kenan and Laquon (who seemed like a track star to me).  Like me, it was Rose's first marathon too.  As the gun sounded we saluted all of the NY police and fireman who were perched on top of the buses and then we were off.  Rose, Kenan and I smiled widely at each other as we started over the Staten Island bridge, amidst a mass of people.  I was struck by how many people had pictures and names of loved ones who'd passed away on the backs of their shirts.  I was thinking about my Dad who we lost to leukemia in 1998 for sure.  The weather was perfect and the sun was reflecting beautifully off the water.  I believe Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York" was playing from speakers on the bridge, but I was so caught up in the moment I am not sure I even heard it.  I think I might have been slightly in shock that it was actually happening.

Kenan and I had talked about running the entire race together.  It seemed feasible since we both ran around a similar pace in training runs and other races we've done.  I really wanted to go out as slowly as possible.  I'd read so much about "not getting caught up in all the excitement in the beginning" and since I have personally experienced that in a couple of races, I really wanted to be cautious in this one.

I found myself looking for places to run freely, as there were all kinds of people running at different paces and some even walking already.  The bridge is a 200 foot elevation, so not to be taken lightly, even for the start of a race.  As we came off the bridge, we hit Brooklyn with some people lining the side of the road cheering.  Where did these people come from?  Running further into Brooklyn onto 4th avenue into Bay Ridge, things started to become clear to me what this race was all about. So. Many. People.  Out. Cheering.  It was overwhelming in some ways.  People lining the streets , screaming, calling your name, high-fiving, so many clever signs and live bands playing on the sidewalks.

Kenan looking good down 4th Ave

I felt Kenan's pacing was rising, fueled by the energy of the crowd.  I felt like Rose and I were both putting in a little extra energy to stay with him.  I followed his moves through the other racers.  At one point, a woman stepped directly between us and I made a lateral move to avoid running into her, only to step directly into a pothole with my left foot.  I felt my ankle twist hard.  I jumped in the air yelling a little.  I didn't even want to consider how bad this could be so kept jumping / hopping for a few more strides and just kept going.  It was sore, but it was way too early for anything to slow me down. 

I knew we were going to see a bunch of friends and family at mile 7 in Park Slope, so I really wanted to be together when we did that.  The pace was around 9 mins per mile which was about a minute faster per mile than I wanted.  I alternated having music on and not, since there was so much going on to see and hear.  I was feeling some incredible euphoria at some points on 4th ave.  I remember a live version of "Free" by Phish was playing in my ear and almost felt tears of joy coming.  

Approaching mile 7, we saw good family friend, Tim Sheehan.  Tim and several of his siblings are also multiple marathon runners (NY, Boston) and Tim's father George Sheehan is actually quite famous in the running community, having written what is essential to anyone who'd like to understand what running is all about, "Running & Being : The Total Experience" .  In addition to all of that, Tim is one of the nicest people I've ever met.  We both gave him big double high-fives and kept going.  We met friends and family at mile 7 and stopped briefly for some hugs, kisses and pictures.  Seeing Mimi was especially great.  At that point, Laquon jumped into the race to run with Rose.

Rose, Laquon, Kenan and myself mile 7

As we continued, Kenan and I talked about the pace.  I felt like the old man saying we should slow down, but he mentioned the 59th Street Bridge was waiting for us at mile 15 and we probably should slow down to stay together.  Somehow though, a couple of miles later, we lost Kenan.  He was running in the moment - the street got a little tight at a water station and we lost sight of him.

Laquon, having run the Baltimore Marathon only a few weeks ago, assured me we were at a good pace and even was telling Rose to slow down a bit.  He was a constant source of positive energy for me and ran effortlessly, with an easy fluid form.  The streets were still absolutely hyped and full of energy.  The signs kept me laughing a little : "Pain is temporary, glory is forever", "Free beer and sex at the finish line", "If Trump/Hillary can run, so can you", "Run like you stole something", and "Tap here for a power up" with a picture of the mushroom from the Nintendo games.  I hit all of those power up signs as well as high-fiving as many people as possible, especially policemen who were up for that and all the little kids.

I had eaten what I normally would before a long run (fruit/veggie smoothie, bananas, granola bar) and also had these energy jelly beans I've been using so I knew I'd be ok with food intake for the most part.  So I just needed to make sure to keep hydrating.  We made sure to hit water stations (there were so many, it was great).  The only problem for me was I didn't discern between what I was being handed by the volunteers : gatorade vs. water.  So I broke one of the big rules for running which is : nothing new on race day.  I hadn't drank gatorade since I was a kid, but didn't think much of it at the time.  As we got to about mile 12 in Greenpoint, my stomach started to feel a little tight.  I put it down being nervous about what I was trying to do this day. 

As we passed mile 13, I started thinking about the 59th Street Bridge.  It's been described to me as a "wall" in terms of how steep it is and it goes on forever. It comes at a less than great point in the run too.  Who needs a huge hill to run up 15 miles in?  Speaking of wall, I also started to feel like I was hitting my own personal wall at this time.  I felt I needed to put more into what I was doing to keep going.  Around mile 14, the course started making some turns and I saw my friend Tony from work, who was manning a water station with his son's Boy Scout troupe.  It was great to grab some water from him and it definitely gave me a lift as he yelled "Jim, you're really doing it!" and I ran off.

As we made the left onto Queensborough Plaza approaching mile 15, I remember Laquon saying to me "Jim, man made this bridge and you're a man who's going to beat this bridge".  And there it was, the lower level of the 59th Street Bridge,  a seemingly never ending incline in front of us.  We kept going forward, the crowds disappeared.  There was no more cheering.  It seemed like half of the runners were now walking.  Our pace was slow, but persistent.  We needed extra energy to slowly run around all of the walkers.  We saw a man off to the side on all fours with his head on the sidewalk, clearly in distress.  We looked at each other like we should do something, but quickly saw other people and a police officer running towards him.  Lots of people also had stopped on the side of the bridge just to rest and stretch.  We kept going.  I'd run worse hills in Sea Cliff .  I kept telling myself this.  And soon enough, we were at the top of the bridge, now over Roosevelt Island.  Now it was a slight (and welcome) downhill.  And I knew what was coming next after that, 1st Ave.

I'd heard the best part of the race is 1st Ave., since you go from one of the hardest parts to the part with the most people and loudest cheering.  And indeed it was.  It started a little slowly, but soon it felt like I was at a live music show.  I switched off my music and eventually pocketed my headphones for almost all of 1st avenue.  Miles 16 through 18 felt a little easier somehow, even though when I saw another friend from work Nicole and ran over to hug her all I could manage was "I'm dying out here" when she yelled "congratulations!"  I saw another friend, Gary yelling to me from across the street but all I could do was wave to him as my stomach was affecting me a bit and across the street seemed so far away.  I felt like I needed to keep going.

We did stop and meet Rose's mom at one point (lovely) and I made the conscious decision somewhere after mile 18 to wait for Laquon when he went to use the porta potty.  I really didn't want to stop, but running with Rose and Laquon was really helping me in terms of keeping a decent pace and especially how positive they both were.  For someone running her first marathon, she seemed to not be struggling at all - even taking a couple of phone calls while running.  I could barely talk at this point.

I went back to listening to music after mile 19 .  I knew we were approaching the Bronx and I'd heard there were less people cheering up there.  "Going Down the Road, Feelin' Bad" and "Drop Dead Legs" seemed apropos songs to hear at this time.  As we hit the Willis Ave Bridge leading into the Bronx at mile 20, I was thinking that another uphill was definitely not what I needed.  I did think it must be one of the last major uphill parts of the race since I heard the Madison Avenue Bridge (the last bridge) on the way back into Manhattan wasn't so bad.  I was wrong - not about the bridge but about the last major uphill ...

As we weaved through the Bronx, there were still people everywhere.  "You can do it, Jim!" so many times.  Getting that shirt with my name on it was definitely a good idea.  I saw this large group of guys on the side of E. 138 St (I think) giving runners rub downs , focusing on the calf.  Kenan told me he did this last year and he felt it saved his race.  I thought about doing it, but there were lines of runners.  Plus staying with Laquan and Rose seemed like a good bet at this point.  At mile 21, Rose's father (a marathoner himself) jumped into the race offering us bagels (at this point I couldn't eat or drink anything except water).  Rose and her Dad ran together chatting.  I told Laquon he should go with them as I definitely felt myself hitting another wall and slowing down (or maybe they were speeding up?) He said no, he wanted to give them some time together.  I must admit I was thankful.  He just made it look so easy and it continued to give me hope I could actually do this.

I was really starting to feel the pain of this though.  The bottoms of my feet were most strikingly affected.  My calf muscles felt something between on fire and numb and my hamstrings / butt felt like I had pins stuck in them.  Even my back felt sore for some reason.  My left ankle was actally a bit numb, so that was actually not a bad thing.  As "Cortez the Killer" played in my ears, I felt like crying a little.  I was retreating into some strange place in my mind.  I kept thinking we just have to make it to Central Park.

Before mile 22, Laquon turned to me and asked "you good?"  I nodded and said the only thing I could , "yeah".  "Ok, I'm gonna go run with my girlfriend - see you at the finish line".  And with that, off he went, turning on another gear, sprinting/weaving through the crowd or runners like a gazelle.  I was now truly on my own.  I almost immediately felt slower and that everything was getting more difficult.

Coming down 5th Ave., I saw a sign of hope.  There were fences with trees and grass behind it.  Could this be Central Park?  I work in a building near Columbus Circle at the foot of the park and have run the loop in the park many times.  I felt like once I was there, I'd be on more familiar ground.  No.  It was Marcus Garvey Park, which represented a small obstacle to run around at mile 22 before continuing south on 5th Ave.  I saw a friend, Dave (another marathoner who lives in this area) and ran over to shake his hand.  I have no idea what he said to me or what I said to him as I ran off.

As I looked down 5th Ave for some sign of hope, I really found none.  Actually quite the opposite.  There was a mass of people slowly running and walking up an ominous uphill incline that seemed to stretch onward forever.  I stopped at water stations and downed not one but two cups of water.  I walked to the end of the water table and somehow forced myself to get back into a jogging pace.  My mind was really in complete war with my body at this point.  I found it incredible how something was trying to make me just stop, but how I knew I had to keep going.  "Hey Present Jim, Future Jim will love you for this" I kept telling myself.

So many people were walking at this point.  I was trying my best to navigate around them, but stumbled clumsily into a few people in trying to do so.  "Why not just walk to the finish?" the monkeys in my head kept asking me.  It seemed reasonable.  I kept thinking I'd be done faster if I kept trying to run.  

"Hummer" by Smashing Pumpkins came on my headphones.  It's a song I used to listen to long ago when my Dad was battling (and losing to) cancer.  It's a really powerful but very sad song and it made me think of a time sitting with him in Sloan Kettering when he was fighting a pneumonia he'd gotten as a result of the chemotherapy he was on.  He was laying on his side grasping the metal rails on the side on the hospital bed, holding on as his body violently shook in pain.  This image has never left me - and any time I experience any "pain" while running, the thought of what he went through carries me.  And he was with me once again this time.

Even with that powerful force with me, I still was in completely uncharted territory as a runner.  I'd never run more than 21.25 miles before and here I was over 23 miles running uphill on 5th Ave.  I knew we were near the park, but when were we going in?  The streets were at 110 or something and I just kept telling myself we just needed to go 50 more blocks or so.  I felt like my pace was barely faster than any of the other runners and it even took me a while to overtake some speed walkers.  I was losing the ability to tell how far I'd gone for some reason.   Was it 23 or 24 miles?

Then at around 90th street, I saw the pack ahead of me turning.  It must be entering the park.  I followed along and then I was in.  I always run the loop in the park counter-clockwise, so I was now running down a very familiar path in the opposite direction.  Central Park is known for a pretty challenging hill up in Harlem (thankfully this race doesn't include that), but also has a good deal of "rolling" hills. 

Somewhere in the park

I was now hitting them in reverse of what I was used to.  It was nice to enter and start with an easy downhill.  The park itself was lined with a lot of excited people and I really fed off their energy.  I saw the sign for 24 miles.   I was getting encouraged on a first name basis a lot.  I started high-fiving little kids again.  I was a complete mess physically, but just kept pushing along.  "Coming Home" , a reggae song by Stick Figure was nice to hear.  

I knew we had to get to the bottom of the park and then go out of it, before re-entering it on the other side to go over the finish.  I couldn't believe I'd gone this far and I was still fighting so hard to stop and/or walk.  I didn't do either.  Almost delirious, but somehow I just kept it going.  I saw a sign that said "40K" and was thinking "what the hell is 40K?" .  I started doing math in my head, "a 5K is 3.1 miles so ..." .  That passed a little time when I saw the sign for 25 miles shortly after.  The hills in the park were coming and going as expected, the uphills seeming almost surreal at this point.

Approaching the finish line

And then we were out of the park.  Central Park South where you're used to seeing all of the horse carriages was now a see of runners and walkers just trying to get to the end of this.  And somewhere right before the turn back into the park, he popped out next to me.  It was my brother Kenan.  I took my headphones off hoping to realize the moment of crossing the finish line together.  He said "dude, I can't run that fast right now".  I was in such a place in my head at this time, desperate to end the pain I was in, I am not sure if I even said anything to him.  I just had to keep going and use whatever strength I had to finish as quickly as possible.  In retrospect, I don't feel so great about this, but at the time there was nothing else I could do.  Rounding the turn back into the park, the "26 miles" sign was there.  .2 miles left?  It was a lot harder than it sounds.  For some reason, the last .2 was uphill (really?) .  I fought through it and crossed the rather beautiful finish line (4 hours 48 minutes) .  Moments later, Kenan joined me and we started the "walk of the dead" forward.

Crossing the finish line

We got our medals (so heavy!) and managed to get a photo taken.  

Glad we stopped for this one

We had to keep walking forward (another 10 blocks!) and guess what , more uphill.  There were recovery bags of food and drinks.  I couldn't get anything down and in fact felt nauseous.  Kenan seemed in good spirits, but I couldn't escape the feelings of pain that still had me.  I wanted to sit down, but he encouraged me to keep walking.  He was really there for me.  He's my younger brother, but in a lot of ways he's been more of a mentor to me than you'd think given our ten year difference in age.  Pretty dramatically, our body temperatures seemed to drop rapidly and it just felt like November all of a sudden.  We needed to get our magic post-race ponchos.  We walked up to 77th street (it felt like forever) and exited the park and started walking back down Central Park West to where they gave out the ponchos.  We both thanked Karen aloud as Kenan was able to get his poncho.  Otherwise, it would have been a longer walk to 85th street in order for him to even be allowed to leave the park at that point.  These ponchos are not the thin metallic looking things you see runners with after races, but longer heavy insulated ones that really made a huge difference.


Our family met us around 60 something street on Central Park West with some hot chocolate.  I was told I looked very pale, but I knew I'd be ok.  After a hot shower at my gym and a great deal of liquids, we all sat down to a hot meal at Supper downtown which was great.

So that's my first marathon experience.  It was nothing short of incredible.  What an amazing wild day it was. I definitely learned a lot about myself. I believe that anyone can run a marathon - they just have to really want to.  I feel extremely grateful for the opportunity to even attempt it and even more so for being able to complete one.  I want to thank: my Dad Jim Mortko for being a source of power and inspiration; my Father Bill Juska for all his advice and hopefully for some his running genes; my wife Mimi who ran with me, brought me water on training runs and put up with all my craziness leading up to this race; my brother Kenan for making me realize I could really do this, for being with me the entire day and for being one of the coolest guys I know; Karen, Gilda, Patty, Angela and Allison for being such great examples of people who love to run and socialize around it; Laquon and Rose for being my running partners for a good portion of that day; Kristin Hawley my former coworker who advised me to do this long ago; Jason Dong the co-worker who first suggested the 5K mud run; the myriad of other friends and co-workers who all ran marathons and gave me advice; all of the volunteers who gave us water (looking at you Patty and Tony); all of New York City who came out that day to cheer us on.  I am sure I am forgetting people I should be thanking ...

Another cool thing is everyone under 5 hours and change gets their name in the New York Times the next day.



I will admit swore I'd never do it again both while running the later stages of it and directly afterward.  A day later, I'm actually thinking I might ...