My Marathon Post (both in form and content): So last Sunday, after several decades wanting to, I finally ran the NYC Marathon. I trained for several months, was feeling confident, and I had the support of a silly amount of friends and family, both throughout my training and on marathon day. I was ready for an amazing day. Well you always hear that a marathon will push you to your utmost limits and test you physically, mentally, and emotionally, and thats just what happened to me. I had run three different 20-mile training runs, and at the end of each one, I had the feeling, I could have done the marathon today. My time was where it needed to be, and I felt like I had more to give. With the right rest, carbo-loading, race day adrenaline, and cheering support, the morathon seemed completely doable. sure, those last 6 miles might be painful, but the first 20 would be no problem. Unfortunately, that wasnt the case. The only sense I can make of what happened to me is that I overate and under dressed and became very cold, which led to me becoming painfully dehydrated. My brother Gerard ODonnell warned me days before the marathon that he had heard it would be a tough, cold day for running and that the cold makes you dehydrate quickly. And yet I wore a tanktop and shorts and that was all. And the water they had at each mile was very cold, so without realizing I was doing it, I began to only take a sip or two at each water stop when I should have been drinking by the cup full. Usually on long runs, the first 2 or 3 miles feel awkward and clumsy, and then I find my groove and just enjoy the ride. That never happened on Sunday. I never got past that first few miles feeling. I was on the pace I needed to be on, but I was cold and nauseated, and the cold wind was making it tough for me to ever catch my breath. I knew The wall was inevitable, but I felt like I hit it at mile 8. every mile after that was pain. I was surprised to find myself walking over the Pulaski Bridge at mile 13, well shy of the long runs I had been doing. I remember being on the Queensboro Bridge and being surprised that I was there. I was supposed to find my friend Deirdre Sweeney before the bridge, but I had lost awareness of just where I was. I ran the Bridge many times in training, but could barely walk-jog-walk-jog it that day. Im very thankful for all my loved ones who came out to cheer my on that day. If I didnt have appointments to keep with people along the last 10 miles of the route, I doubt I could have kept going when I hit Manhattan at mile 16. I went into a portapotty, not because I had to go to the bathroom, but because I mentally needed to step off the course for a minute. I was feeling so overwhelmingly sad tbecause I was falling apart physically and the Big Day was going nothing like I had hoped. Well, eventually I did finish, but it involved a lot of walking. Looking back, I realize how dangerously dehydrated I was. At that portapotty, my urine had been dark orange. At one point, I passed a friend on 119th and looked forward to seeing another friend on 110th. but I couldnt figure out how many blocks it would take me to go from 119th to 110th. I woke up very early the next day with a very heavy sense of remorse. I felt like I had blown it, like I had the opportunity for an amazing day and I ruined it. But with some distance, its become apparent that there were a lot of great things about that day. I had SO MANY people cheering for me, both locally and from long distances via Facebook and texts. And it was amazing every time I spotted one of my friends or family in the crowd where they said theyd be. Everyone should run the NYC marathon once in their life just for those split seconds. Ive never seen so many people so ridiculously happy to see me. Youd think Id just told them I won the lottery by the way they completely lit up and started jumping and screaming at the sight of me. Such a unique, unguarded, and genuine reception. I have fun little mini-memories of the day, like slapping kids hands as I ran along. I would run along the curb for awhile to slap hands and then drift to the middle of the street to try to center and collect myself and then drift back toward the curb to slap some more hands. It was a surreal experience to have so many complete strangers cheering for me by Name. I had my name written on my shirt, so all day long people cheered for me personally. and I had a number of moments, of fleeting instances, where I would lock eyes with a complete stranger as I struggled passed, and their expression would acknowledge my situation and they would say something encouraging to me and say my name. They didnt have to jump or scream, but I felt this surreal, isolated moment of connecting with a complete stranger. I felt like I was SEEN, in a way that contrasted how we all tend to go through life in the big city anonymously, without being fully seen for who we individually are. It was amazing to receive support from strangers of all walks of like, of all backgrounds and ethnicities. Well, almost all. Chris and I had watched a Marathon video a few days prior. In it, they describe running along the streets in Brooklyn, with all the people cheering, and then turning a corner and suddenly being in Williamsburg surrounded by Hasidic Jews. I found it comical that the phrasing of the narrative strongly implied without coming out and saying it that everybody will cheer for you except the Hasidic Jews. Well, thats what happened. In Williamsburg, we became invisible. There were groups of Jewish people on the sidewalks going about their business, pointedly not looking at any of the runners. It was comical how much of a disconnect there was between the runners on the street and the people on the sidewalk ignoring the runners existence. Except for when they had to cross the street. I witnessed a funny image of a Hasidic Jewish man, in full black garb and coat with a giant beard clutching his large traditional hat to his head as he shuffled across the street, cutting between oncoming runners, with a look of terror on his face. I remember thinking, well thats something you dont see everyday as I ran just past him. Im so grateful for all my friends and family who came out to cheer me on. They were all so amazing. Maureen Gillespie-McEvoy made me laugh when, after I passed her, she and her son Colin ran along the course for three blocks to intercept me because I hadnt taken the banana they tried to hand me as I ran by. The people I met in the last 10 miles saw me in very rare form. When I came up to my friend Jeri Zulli at 85th and 1st, I announced I need a hug and completely collapsed into her. I melted into her, fought back tears, and just held on for dear life, not wanting the hug to end and not wanting to go back to running (well, jog-walking...). And thats how each of my next pit stops went, as I collapsed into my cousins Christene Murphy Anderer and Mike Michael Vercillo and then into Robert Cibella and then into Diane Boylan Kelly. Each time, I felt like I was completely done, could not go on, but they all hugged me, encouraged me, and helped me keep going. I really cant stress enough just how much they each did for me that day. I have a funny visual image memory of Dianes 4 boys all offering me chocolate. They were competing with each other to sell their chocolate best, so I would take theirs instead of their brothers. Its obvious where they get it from. Diane was right there with them, doing the same, breaking a milky way in half and stretching out the gooey insides, trying to get me to take hers over her sons. I have a great image of my good friend Robert Cibella, who had had wrist surgery just three days prior and whose arm was still bandaged up, running alongside the marathon route for several blocks, screaming at me, jumping up and down, and taking pictures. In that moment, I became so scared that he would hurt himself that I forgot what I was suffering, which was a much needed momentary respite. The pivotal moment was when I finally made it to my husband Christopher Danley around mile 20.5 in the Bronx. He gave me the hug I needed and then did everything shy of physically carrying me the last 6 miles. He jogged along side me, talking to me and giving me confidence. He rallied the crowds to chant my name. He made me drink water when I tried to avoid it because I was nauseated (Thank God he did that). He gave me his jacket to warm me up for a few of the final miles. He covered my legs in Ben Gay (How cool is this: my legs had been very cramped for several miles when I saw Diane on 1st Ave before the Bronx, and I asked her to fin me some Ben Gay. When Chris and I ran into her again coming south on 5th after the Bronc, she had Ben Gay for me. So I stopped and Chris drenched my legs in it.) There was a comical (for me) moment just as I turned onto Central Park South for the final mile. I had been saying to myself just 10 more blocks for several miles, as I was in too much pain to face running the distance that actually remained, so the final mile may not sound like much, but it felt like I had an enormous distance yet to run. anyway, just as I turned onto CPS and faced that uphill, my iPod died. at that moment, in that situation, it seemed very comical to me, that my iPod gave up and I still wasnt done with this damn marathon. My favorite moment of the day came shortly after the finish. I didnt experience any kind of jubilant high at finishing, no powerful sense of pride and accomplishment. I had been sayingmake it stop and let it please be over to myself for so long that I just felt thankful that it had finally ended. I had the neutral feeling of the cessation of pain as opposed to any positive feeling of please. But a few minutes late, that changed. Chris helped me get changed near the finish line. I had checked a bag at the Start, so I had some dry and warm clothes waiting for me. Chris wrapped a space blanket around me and I stripped naked right there in Central Park. I was in no position to bend down, so Chris undid my shoelaces and took my shoes off for me. I had a pair of crocs, so my feet could escape the running sneakers and swell up as they would. Anyway, I was shakily standing there and Chris was dressing me. He bunched up my socks like you do for a young child and slid them onto my feet. That motion took me completely out of that moment, of that semi-traumatic experience. Whens the last time anybody ever put a sock on your foot for you? I had a sharp, powerful image of my Mom doing this for me, a flashback to when I must have been very. very young. It was a memory I didnt even know I had. I felt overwhelmingly loved and cared for and grateful to have Chris in my life. Well, my NYC Marathon did not go as I thought it was supposed to, but Ive had enough time and reflection to see that this is how the day was meant to be. It was a powerfully humbling experience that both reminded me of how fragile and human I am and showed me how deep I can dig for strength and fortitude. It tested me the way marathons are meant to test you. And it showed me all the love that surrounds me, all the amazing people that I have in my life, near and far, who support me and want good things for me. My marathon reminded me of what a wonderful husband I have and how much he wants me to be happy and achieve my goals in life. I never could have guessed what my New York City Marathon experience would be like, both during the race and in the days that followed. And thats a good thing. Im very thankful for having run the NYC Marathon :)
Posted on: Sat, 09 Nov 2013 22:39:51 +0000
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