Tag Archives: New York Road Runners

How I FINISHED the ING NYC Marathon 2012

Hurricane Sandy blew destruction across my Staten Island neighborhood. Fortunately my family was just inconvenienced without power for 6 days, tree damage and low gas in our cars. Many other’s were less fortunate. Areas that are among my most favorite running grounds were completely demolished and flooded.  This is a blog post from Oct 14 where I completed my last long run in the sections destroyed by Hurricane Sandy: http://bit.ly/TdFKdb

Staten Island – West Brighton – Tree Damage from Hurricane Sandy

I kept asking myself, “How could there be a marathon?” And the answer in my heart was always, “No, there just can’t be.” I had already accepted the marathon would be cancelled even though an official announcement was yet to be made by NYRR CEO Mary Wittenberg. She never made it. Mayor Bloomberg insisted it was going forward. NYRR sent newsletters to confirm that it was on.

I just couldn’t believe it. And then an angry mob began hating on runners. I had Facebook Friends post about tripping runners, protesting at the start line, blocking the course. The general sentiment that echoed in my head was: “Running the Marathon is a disgrace. It is an insult to every New Yorker who has suffered in any way.”  This is not the spirit of the NYC Marathon. The marathon was founded on bringing together all 5 boros of NYC.  I was very conflicted.

At Friday afternoon’s press conference (2 days before the marathon) Mayor Bloomberg continued to insist the marathon would happen.  So I took a deep breath and began a 3 hour commute into NYC to the Javitz Center for the expo where I would pick-up my bib. This was supposed to be a thrilling process and instead I was masking feelings of dread and sadness.

Minutes after receiving my bib, while at a cash register with my sister paying for some running items, a friend called to say the Mayor just cancelled it. I was beyond relieved and also sad and angry. Why wait so long to make a decision?

Moments after getting my bib at the expo for the NYC Marathon 2012, Mayor Bloomberg announced it was cancelled

On Sunday, Nov 4, I joined NY Runners Support Staten Island at the ferry (met my sister too) and went into the coastal areas hit hardest to distribute supplies and help my neighbors cleanup. It was heartbreaking and uplifting to use my well-trained body to help another in dire need.  The group was organized in a matter of 2 days all via Facebook.  This is an interesting article from the Huffington Post that describes how the entire event was organized via social media.  http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jordan-d-metzl-md/nyc-marathon-staten-island_b_2094399.html

We were a group of strangers and yet we organized quickly and smoothly and adapted to any change of plans.  One of the great things about runners is that we are very familiar with organized chaos (on a race course thousands of runners weave past one another; in training a lone runner dodges the surprises of urban streets: cars, dogs, pedestrians, potholes) and being corralled into groups (12:00 pacers go to the back; sub-8:00 pacers to the front).  We are also task-masters (give us a training plan and we will get the job done) and highly goal-oriented (when’s the next race so we can plan our strategy to cross that finish line).  There were at least 500 runners that flowed off the ferry.  The orange river poured outside the terminal where everyone organized into smaller group’s based on which area they were going to help.

My group chose to run into the Oakwood Beach area. As we ran into the residential streets where homes were completely shredded apart my heart dropped.

Staten Island – Hurricane Sandy

Staten Island – Cedar Grove Beach area – tops of homes blown off their foundations

There were no signs of FEMA, Red Cross, government personnel, military officials… I don’t even know who should have been present around such a catastrophe.  All I saw were lots of neighbors helping neighbors in every way possible.  With our backpacks stuffed with supplies, one of our fellow-runners even had a twin-baby stroller stuffed with items, I sort of felt like the cavalry.  These folks clearly needed man-power desperately.

It was amazing to see my community come together.  There were teenage girls walking the streets with trays of coffee to hand-out; packs of men walking with shovels and gloves ready to move debris; older women setup tables in front of their homes where food was on display for anyone to take (“Want some baked ziti? I have hot lasagna here!”); pick-up trucks with out-of-state license plates were cruising the streets looking to help provide man-power or unload supplies.

We started by asking each homeowner what they needed and how we could help.  A very simple question that sliced through an onion of raw, burning pain.  Some folks were too emotional when asked the question.  Other’s were too proud to take anything so I had to be persistent.  Quite a few apologized that I couldn’t run ‘my marathon’ and I told them not to even give it a thought.  I could care less.  I want to help and I have strong legs so tell me where to run and I’ll get what you need.

There were make-shift supply distribution hubs (usually at street corners) that had collected cleaning supplies, clothes, food.  I grabbed a bucket, bleach, gloves and sponges.  I started trotting around through the streets passing out items.  Sometimes I’d stop at a home to help clear debris, other times I would ask someone what they needed and run back to the make-shift supply hub to get the item.

Would-be New York City Marathon runners instead pitched in to help storm victims on Staten Island.

I wore my orange marathoner shirt.  Funny how orange was the color for the 2012 marathon. It’s also the color for Staten Island, thanks to the bright orange ferries.

A year ago I was IN to FINISH the ING NYC MARATHON 2012. Here is my blog post that started the journey: http://bit.ly/SKcjuw.  I have spent the entire year mentally and physically preparing for Nov 4, 2012.  The day was supposed to start on Staten Island and take me on a course through all 5-boros, finishing in NYC.  God had another course for me to follow that started and ended in my own backyard, on Staten Island.  Helping my neighbors was the best way I could have put all my pent-up energy to a positive purpose.  I will run the NYC Marathon in 2013 and come back better, faster and stronger, just like New York City.

FINISH LINE PHOTO:  Me and my sister wearing our orange marathoner shirts, the same color of the Staten Island Ferry, after the most unforgettable day helping our neighbors.

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Waiting to Blast Off

I recently visited the observation deck of the Empire State Building.    Looking out across downtown, straight to Staten Island and then over to Brooklyn and Queens all I could think is that I am actually going to run all of that distance! I’m literally going to run this town.  The cool thing was that as I slowly visualized the entire course and put my body in the moment, I knew I could do it. What once seemed impossible, is possible and will happen.

I feel like there’s a rocket quietly sitting in my heart just waiting to take off! I have this vision of the Space Shuttle on the launch pad, 100% ready for the long journey, patiently waiting for the countdown and GO FOR LIFT OFF from the mission control room.

Training began back in late-May.  My coach put me on a steady running program with the goal being to run slow and steady about 5x a week.  He recommended a Garmin watch and that I track my heart rate.  In those early weeks the alarm would beep wildly as my heart-rate would go too high and outside of the target zone.

As the weekly runs and training programs pushed on through the hot summer I started to see a difference in my heart-rate.  I was able to run faster while my heart-rate remained low. This meant I was more relaxed and comfortable running faster rather than huffing, puffing and gasping for air while running a sub-10 minute pace.

On Wednesday evening’s our coach gave group training sessions.  We were introduced to Hill Repeats and Interval Runs.  Hill Repeats simply meant we would run – dash – up a steep hill, learning to pace our movements so that by midway up the hill we could push faster. Since they were repeats, we would charge up the hill 6x. I can feel myself panting and the strain in my legs just writing about the difficult process!

Thank God for my running mates. Their companionship and support made the entire experience a lot of fun.  The nice part about Hill Repeats is that once finished, I would run a 2 mile cool-down where my lungs felt open and my legs strong.  Now I’m programmed so that whenever I see a hill my mind imagines how it will feel to do hill repeats.  I instinctively want to charge up it and go faster.

When we did interval training runs we learned how to pace ourselves and shift gears.  Intervals are very empowering.  One of the training programs I had to follow was to run 4x 1 mile intervals at a 9:00 minute pace, recover a 1/4 mile at a slow jog.  The first time was always the hardest because my heart-rate was pulsing out of my ears.  By the second time I was questioning if I could hold out and still do it two more times.  By the third interval I was settling in and realizing I could probably go faster than a 9:00 minute pace.  And by the fourth time I was like a bat out of hell and would run 8:20 min pace just to shut-up my nagging-self and prove that I am by far stronger than I think.

I flip through my mind the memories of months of training runs. Here are some random snapshots:

  • The 5:30am morning runs where I would share the residential streets with just a handful of folks: the newspaper delivery guy driving slowly in his car tossing papers out the window, the woman collecting recyclable bottles, the bread-delivery guy for Key Food whose truck gave off a sweet aroma.  And the only sound ringing out on the quiet early morning streets was my Garmin watch beeping my heart-rate was too high or my RunKeeper app on my phone telling me my current pace and distance.
  • The runs in the extreme heat and humidity where I would seek out water fountains just to cool-down my arms and neck.
  • The runs in the pouring rain where the only hard part was mustering the will to walk outside the house into torrential rain.  Once I was soaked, the rain just didn’t matter. I thought of the rain-runs as a sort of holy blessing from God.
  • The runs I squeezed into my schedule while on vacation or a business trip.
  • The countless loops in Clove Lakes Park & Silver Lake Park. Getting to know the ‘regulars’ in the parks including the gaggle of seniors I fondly labeled as the Silver Sneaker Walkers… the grey-haired gals huddled together for a brisk walk and the clusters of men likewise out for their a.m. walk
  • The long-runs I enjoy every Sunday morning with my running mates and coach. Starting at 7am, the summer months they began in a bright sunlight and now that it’s October we begin with starlight twinkling away at the break of dawn. We would begin our morning as any dedicated running group: by panting, groaning, sweating and chit-chatting about everything and anything for a good two hours or more.
  • Our beautiful, adventurous, suburban long-run courses: From Clove Lakes Park, along College Avenue out to the majestic Bayonne Bridge pedestrian walkway with views of skyscraper cargo ships and the Bayonne Windmill blowing in the direction of the NYC Skyline, down along Avenue A and the Brooklyn-looking streets of Bayonne and into sprawling Stephen R. Gregg Hudson County Park and further into Richard A. Rutkowski Park (also known as the Waterfront Park and Environmental Walkway, a 40-acre wetlands preserve) before heading back all the way to Clove Lakes (approx 14 miles depending how you map the course).  Or in the Greenbelt Trails that would be accessed by parking in the Costco Parking Lot. Or along South Beach boardwalk to Miller Field and out to Fort Wadsworth.

I am now less than two weeks away from the NYC Marathon!  Every single time I think about it, or see an advertisement on an MTA bus or subway , or get a newsletter from NYRR, or see a commercial on TV, the butterflies flutter with anticipation.  Now I just have to sit and wait for mission control to give me the green light.

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Running the Brooklyn Half Marathon: I Want More

I love running Half Marathons!  Within the past year I have run four.  In a week I will run my fifth (NYRR Manhattan Half) and then I look forward to the NYC Half on March 15 and the More Magazine/ Fitness Magazine Women’s Half on April 15.  I figure eventually all these halfsies will lead me to a whole: specifically the ING NYC Marathon.

How did I get to this point?  Here’s the story of my first half marathon.

I ran my first Half Marathon in May 2011, the Brooklyn Half. It was a beautiful Spring day and my first time running 13.1 miles.   I ran that race with my Dad and sister.  My sister is a lot faster so I only saw her for hugs at the Start and Finish line.  My Dad, who is my running buddy,  stayed with me for a few miles in Prospect Park but then I gradually drifted away around mile 4.  He, being a very experienced runner, kept telling me to just follow my feet so I did just that.

I had no strategy or plan of attack. I was just focused on finishing.  I didn’t care about my pace. I didn’t care about my NYRR Account Profile and what race times would appear. Being a newbie to the racing community and entering it without any sense of competition my only real fear was that I would fall behind in the pack as everyone passed me and when I got to the finish line they would have already started packing up.  Back then I didn’t even feel I could call myself a runner even though I did run 3-5x a week mostly with my Dad.  I guess I just hadn’t caught my mind up to my body yet.

The Brooklyn Half was my second race.  The first race I ever ran was about 8 weeks earlier, the 15k Colon Cancer Challenge (March 2011).   For that race I was giddy with enthusiasm just over being a participant that it wasn’t until I looked at my time and ranking on my NYRR profile that I realized I was quite close to being the LAST one to finish!

Last?!  Oh, was that why as I came around mile 8 there were so few runners around me?  And why when I crossed the finish line – smiling, arms up like a champ – I felt like I had joined a party that had been going on for hours?  What did I know about running races?  Nada.  So the fact that during that 15k race there were merely 149 runners behind me was a smack on a pride I didn’t even know existed in me.

So my strategy for the Brooklyn Half was simple: Don’t Be Last.  I had this fear of running alone, watching every runner pass me by, as I struggled to get to the Coney Island finish line.

My Dad said the biggest mistake runners make is they start out too fast and then crash. He kept reminding me to take it easy and not get caught up in the rush because later on I will pass a lot of these runners who were flying by me.  Wise advice except it sort of messed with my head after knowing how I ranked in my last race. What if I go too slow?

Like a sign from God, as I was settling into the run around mile 5 there was a girl just up ahead of me wearing a T-shirt that read “DON’T BE LAST!”.  I took a moment to get a sense of my surroundings.  There were a lot of runners still behind me and I saw quite a few stopping on the sidelines at fluid stations or to stretch.  I suspected my Dad hadn’t passed me cause surely I would have seen him. So I calculated that there were at least 40 runners who will definitely be behind me.  Phew, I won’t be last and I won’t be alone in the end!

When we came out of running the two shady loops in Prospect Park and hit the sprawling, flat Ocean Parkway in a beating Spring sun my heart skipped a few beats in awe.  I was about to run up a highway ramp! Where are the cars? Do I need to look both ways?  Can my body do this?

There were all kinds of shapes, sizes and ages around me and ahead of me.  In the time it took to absorb this thought I was coming down the ramp onto the parkway, finding my strength from the pack of runners all around me.  If they are doing it, I can too.  And off we merged onto Ocean Parkway.

I thought, “So this might be how it feels running the NYC Marathon, running major roads and highways that are shutdown just for the runners.” I loved that sensation. That was the moment I actually decided I would one day do the marathon.  I may have been at Mile 8, not having even run 13.1 miles yet but that image of the Ocean Parkway leading the way to Coney Island sealed the deal for me.  I want to experience that kind of roadway all over NYC!  Give me the Verrazano Bridge, the BQE… I want to run the streets of my city.

The sensation of running an actual highway where cars zoom by was energizing. Passing traffic signs with speed limits and running through red-lights gave me a real charge. Of course I had trained on the streets in Staten Island plenty but I had to work around the bustle of traffic.  This time the roads were only for runners.  It was also one of the first warm days of Spring and the sun was beating hard so we all kept to the shade of the trees.  It felt great.

As I merged onto Ocean Parkway there was a lone man cheering.  He said, “You’re halfway done! The finish is just down this road.”  Ha, just another 6-ish miles. That flat run on the parkway was long and quiet.  There were no cheerers.  But occasionally an elite runner who had probably finished an hour earlier and now decided to run back on the course towards Prospect Park would shout a cheer like “You can do it runners!  Push it!”.  I felt grateful and inspired to think that I was able to participate in a race with other runners that were a hundred times faster than me.

The end was nearing when I approached the boardwalk at Coney Island and saw the Parachute Ride and Ferris Wheel in the near distance. When I turned the corner in the parking lot with my feet pounding the boardwalk’s wooden planks, heard the Black Eyed Peas “I Gotta Feeling” blasting and crowds cheering around the finish line, I actually felt a little sad it was all about to come to an end. I wanted more! I knew I had more in me.

I remember looking at that Finish Line as I was passing Nathan’s Hot Dog stand and the Verrazano Bridge far off in the distance, with my husband and sister on the sidelines screaming for me, and thought that if I had to run another 5 miles I absolutely had it in me to go the distance.  I felt so proud of myself for discovering I had 13.1 miles in my legs.

After I finished (2:31) and enjoyed a few bites of an apple we all gathered near the finish line straining to see my Dad come through.  About seventeen minutes later I spotted him in the distance and we started hooting and hollering like no one else around.  As he got closer, my sister and I busted back out on the course to help bring our Dad home.

A cute fact about Coney Island- my parent’s, who have been married 44 years, had their first date on the Parachute ride which is just to the right of the finish line.  Now another special memory was made in that same spot – finishing the Brooklyn Half Marathon with his two daughters and a smile across the finish!

Me and my sister bringing our 67yo Dad into the Finish Line!

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My First 10k Race: Where is that finish line?

This past weekend I ran my first 10k, the NYRR Joe Kleinerman Classic 10k in Central Park.  It started on the upper east side near 101st street and looped all the way to the edge of the northside of the park, down the west side, across the bottom of the park near 59th street and then back up on the east side to the finish line around 101st street. 

Once again I had to face the challenge of those Central Park hills.  I find I actually prefer not to know much about the course and just tackle it as it comes.  Perhaps this is an approach I prefer just for Central Park because of the varying degrees of rolling hills.  So just when you think you’ve accomplished the 2 big hills, suddenly you’re on mile 5 and there comes Cat Hill, kicking your butt even though it’s not supposed to be much of anything compared to what you ran at mile 1 and 2.  Or maybe this is a naive novice approach?  Isn’t ignorance sometimes bliss?

Running is such a mind-game of personal puzzle pieces.  Not everyone’s piece fits in the same way to get a picture of the finish line.  Some pieces require water at mile 2, other’s need a sip of Gatorade at every fluid station while still other’s won’t drink till the finish.  Some prefer to start out in the front of the pack, other’s prefer to lay far back and enjoy the feeling of passing other runners as you build up speed each mile marker.   

I planned to run the first 3 miles kinda easy and then push hard for the last 3.  I sort of kept to that plan.  I had a friend join me for the run and I don’t train with her so her presence still impacted my strategy whether I realized it or not because now the puzzle pieces I was fitting together to make my perfect picture of crossing the finish line unintentionally became a duo effort.  Sometimes that was a really good thing when it meant more motivation and sometimes it just became an added level of decision-making to an already tricky jig-saw puzzle

By mile 5 we were really pushing up Cat Hill hard and then as we started down the hill I looked at my friend and said for about the fifth time – “Put it in cruise control to the finish!” – because when you go down a hill it should be just a free-flowing sensation with minimal effort or energy so that you can clear your mind and cleanse out your muscles and heavy-breathing from the challenge of going up the hill. 

We pass mile 6 and we have a point-3 to go.  That point NEVER came!  We started to hear the announcer and music but when I looked ahead I just kept seeing the snaking trail of the racers as though it was never end.  We are now passing speakers and a lot more runners that have finished and are eating their apples and bagels.  But still, we can’t see the finish line.  I can’t keep pushing at this fast pace of close to 9 min per mile.  My friend says “Where is it?! When is it gonna end?!” And then finally we see it just around the bend.

I finished the race feeling amazing and invigorated because I pushed myself harder than ever with an average pace of 9:54 but my per mile splits were a lot faster than I’ve ever done for a run of more than 5 miles.  I have never had a bad experience running a race.  Every one of them has been an incredible adventure and journey for me.  I always focus on the positives and little victories rather than anything negative. 

And yes, I absolutely did smile across the finish of my first 10k.

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I’m IN to Finish 2012 ING NYC Marathon!!

My 67yo father has been running for more than thirty years.  He has run 8 NYC marathons and countless other NYRR races.  His first marathon was in 1979 when I was 7 years old.  Living on Staten Island, the start of the marathon was always an extra big deal in my house.  My mom would wake us early, my younger brother, sister and even my grandparents, and drive my Dad to Fort Wadsworth near the Verazzano Bridge and then cross over to Brooklyn to stake our first of several cheering spots throughout the race; Brooklyn and then on to Manhattan, on the East side just off the 59th Street Bridge and again in Central Park for the last 5 miles.

My Dad said that what piqued his interest in running were Bill Rodgers and Frank Shorter, two of the most elite and successful American runners of all-time.  The NYC Marathon began in 1970 and originally consisted of four loops around Central Park with just a few hundred runners.  In 1976, thanks to the pioneering vision of Fred Lebow, the race expanded to hit all five NYC boroughs and attracted approx 2000 runners, including Olympians Frank Shorter and Bill Rodgers.

In this picture we had just dropped my Dad off at Fort Wadsworth.  The date was Oct 21, 1979.  Notice the limited crowd and the low number on his bib.  The running boom was just getting started!

It was absolutely thrilling to see him come running up to us, cold and sweaty, and hug and squeeze us at every spot!  Back then there was no such thing as gels and power drinks.  My mom would have a huge container of honey that she’d scoop into my Dad’s mouth like medicine for a baby and I would hold fresh-cut oranges in a ziplock baggie.  My fingers would freeze holding out extra oranges and then go numb from clapping so hard for all the runners.  As if that was an act of endurance?!

I also remember seeing all kinds of characters pass by.  There was the waiter who we saw at every marathon.  He wore a black jacket with tails and bow-tie and held a tray in one hand with a champagne bottle and glass.  There were those who ran backwards and the guy who ran while juggling.  To my young eyes, watching the runners sometimes felt like being at the circus.

I remember after my Dad finished his first NYC Marathon he received a spectacular poster of the Verazzano Bridge with all the runners crossing it. The shot was taken from above so you saw the full span of the bridge from Staten Island and thousands of runners charging across it.  I put this poster on the wall just to the side of my bed.  At night I would lie on my side and stare at the poster wondering where my Dad could be amongst the crowd.  My Dad told me how runners would start stripping off layers of clothes while crossing the bridge and just throw them on the pavement or off the side of the bridge.  I found this little fact about littering your clothes on world’s largest bridge to be fascinating and would daydream at the poster imaging shirts flying off the sides of the bridge.

That same year I decided  for Halloween I would dress-up as ‘Daddy’s Super-Jogger’.  My mom ironed the letters onto a sweatshirt (she lost the ‘Y’ so it actually read Dadd’s Super Jogger), gave me my Dad’s sweatband and wristbands, a water bottle (she didn’t have a real water bottle so she gave me my little sister’s baby bottle!), sneakers and off I went proudly jogging in the P.S.69 Halloween Parade.  Running doesn’t require much of any props so my costume kinda looked like I was going to gym class.  That’s me in the middle holding up my sister.

In 1981, when my Dad was 37yo, he finished the NY Marathon in his best time ever – 3:29:30.  He said that as soon as he hit Central Park he suddenly felt like ‘a firecracker was up his ass’ and he ran like the wind to the finish.  He got across the finish line faster than my family could keep up to greet him.  My Dad bought a picture of himself crossing the finish line which has lived in a frame on top of the piano all these years.

Everyday when I would practice piano I would gaze at the picture and think how casually normal my Dad looked, merely hopping, over the finish line.  But I never understood the magnitude of what he accomplished, from achieving a fantastic time to simply finishing the run of 26.2 miles!  Until now.

Back then I never felt a desire to run.  I never even dreamed of running the NYC Marathon. I just enjoyed being an observer, the daughter of someone who was a marathoner and a very driven runner.  My friends and neighbors all knew my Dad as a runner.  So many times someone would tell me, “I saw your Dad running near my house at 5:30am when I went out to grab the paper.  How does he do it?”  I would shrug and just say, “He does. He gets up and goes running.”

It wasn’t until I myself reached my 30’s, when I began very light running on the treadmill and outside (3-4 miles tops)  that I started watching the NY Marathon on TV and unravel a hidden desire to want to run this race myself.  My childhood memories of being surrounded, unconsciously, by the NY Marathon and the determination of a marathoner, came flooding back to me.  Yet I never mapped out a real goal.  Occasionally I would go for a short run with my Dad but I never considered properly training for races or making running a consistent part of my lifestyle.

Maybe it’s because I’m a mother and wife now and recognize the value of organizing time, staying healthy, and generally feeling balanced between work and life that running has become my center around everything else.

So here I am now at the start of 2012, turning 40yo in October, officially accepted into the NYC ING Marathon! I just wish I could find that poster I once had on my bedroom wall.  Only this time I’d put it on the wall in my girl’s bedroom.

Here are some more vintage pictures of my Dad running the NYC Marathon back when it wasn’t even 5 years old. Notice the light crowd of runners and the simple clothing.

 

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NYRR 9+1 DONE!

On Sunday (Nov 20) I volunteered as a Course Marshall in the 4m Race To Deliver in Central Park.  I loved wearing the bright orange Volunteer vest, Emergency Contact tag and having a sense of authority amongst all the racers and pedestrians.  I was positioned less than a quarter-mile to the Finish Line, just at the sharp turn the course takes into the Finish Line.  Didn’t have to do much other than cheer. Oh if only I had a bullhorn.  

My hands were killing me from relentlessly clapping but I felt awful if I stopped clapping.  Every runner deserves a clap.  I hate when I run a race and volunteers just stare at me.  Say something! Motivate me!

Next time I’m gonna stick my hand out and get high-fives.  I always liked volunteers that demanded a high-five as you were pushing through a course. 

I know how wonderful it feels to hear cheers, especially the ones that really strike a chord with your body and make you get a rush of adrenaline, perk-up with a smile and bring it on home.  So rather than just shout the standard “Come on runners!  Go runners! ” I switched my chants to a series of phrases that I would personally love to hear:

You guys look awesome!  You guys look great!  

Finish is just around the bend!  

Push it just a little more into the Finish! 

Deep breath and you’re home!

It wasn’t until the 10+ min a mile pacers started coming in that I really felt a rush of energy and excitement with cheering.  These folks needed the cheers.  You saw their faces light up when you said that the finish was just around the bend.  And that’s when I started shouting, “SMILE OVER THE FINISH!”  The effect that phrase had on runners was just amazing to watch.  One guy was barely at a jog and when I said “Hey, you did it! Smile over the finish!” he smiled, waved his hands like a champ and practically sprinted to the end.

I ran my first race in March 2011.  It was a 15k Colon Cancer Challenge in Central Park.  Not really sure why I decided to become a NYRR member and do races. I just felt the need to give myself goals to better myself.  It was a bitter cold day, below 25 degrees, and pretty windy.  I didn’t care. I was so excited and captivated by the entire experience of running a race; from picking up my bib the day before at the 89th Street NYRR office, waiting around early in the morning with a DJ blasting music, lining up in the corrals, jumping around to warm-up, singing the national anthem, hearing the start gun, the slow herding to the start line then a skip, trot, jog and swoosh a run – that I smiled the entire time.  I smiled at pedestrians, volunteers, other runners. I could not wipe the smile off my face.  The only thing that was aching on me after I finished the race was my face from all the smiling. 

My cousin, who is a runner, told me very wise words for my first race. She said, “Don’t forget to smile across the finish line.”  That phrase says it all to me about the kind of attitude I have as a runner and how I plan to be when I cross the finish line of my first marathon in 2012!

I always ham it up for the cameras
Smiling across the finish after 13.1 miles in Central Park!

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