Getting ready for NYC Marathon

“ for all of my shortcomings Welcome to my homecoming Yeah it’s been a long time coming.”

Racing in the Armory, charging through Van Cortlandt Park, cruising through Central Park. It seems my running career circled the city for nearly a decade — starting far south in Jersey as a high schooler, getting a bit closer with regional championship track meets in New Rochelle, and finally culminating with college championship meets in Van Courtlandt Park.

That park — the smell of the grass and stress and sweat, the woods littered with used condoms and syringes, and the anticipation. I steady my gaze, try to take charge of my breathing, my quickening heartrate. Breath in, stand tall. Left and right — black and orange tank tops — a reflection of my inner intensity on the faces of my friends and competitors. Two decades have not dimmed this memory — it feels almost sharper now.

Here I am now — older, wiser, richer. A little less courage, a lot more restraint. More fancy kit, new colors. More memories on these streets — newer ones. Like the birth of my oldest son at Lenox Hill on 77th Street. My office on the East river. New running mates — a little more balding, a little heavier than the previous ones. Something deliciously familiar — the tingle of anticipation, that bond of brotherhood, mixes with these memories as I approach this new startline.

And in this city of familiar friends and faces, a very unfamiliar distance — 42,195 m. Nearly as long as all the races I’ve ever run on the track added together. Perfect, potent test for the skills I’ve gained since I last raced here. Like patience — taught to me daily by my three children, my job.

Doubt and strength — the two brothers are wrestling now in my head. Who will have the upper hand Sunday? You’ve done it all, says Strength — laced your shoes up all winter, dared the dark roads with your headlamp, charged past your comfort zone in those workouts. I do a quick mental check of my body — are those aches and old injuries at bay? And then Doubt says, Who are you to dream so big? You’re not ready, you’ve not worked enough, you have no idea what you’re getting into. He is right, I think. I’ve never trained for this before, I should be more conservative, more cautious, more fearful…

Gratitude joins the fray of emotions. The delight of feeling the wind, the burn. The joyful noise of children cheering their parents. So lucky to have good health! I think to myself. Again, the races blur, from my friend passing me a water bottle from a bike with his toddler riding along, another friend in her third trimester standing at the last third of a race, my own children cheering as I pass them on a sunny fall day. So lucky, so happy, so healthy. And who knows how long this will last?

A last deep breath, a last prayer — stand tall, relax — here goes nothing.

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