In less than twelve hours, I’ll be walking towards the Verrazano for the start of my fourth New York City Marathon. I wish it were now. But talk to me in 16 hours.
I spent the day running (well, walking) errands, lame stuff that I haven’t had time to address since starting the record in July: new shower curtain, a frame for Margaret Sullivan (she of ‘Maybe Maggie’ fame), twine for recylcables — rockin’, right?
The payoff was a slow stroll through Central Park, where the sun was low and the leaves were a thousand shades of yellow and red. We walked through The Ramble, sat a while in the Great Lawn, and watched the sun dip below the Upper West Side. Anyone who says that New York isn’t the finest city in the world is, well, just dead wrong.
So my marathon bag is packed. I just downed the first of at least three shakes: frozen fruit, orange juice, Gatorade, and Ensure. I’ll be up around 5, meet Chris, Jen and Dana for the ride to the busses at 6:15, and on Staten Island by 7:30 or so, where all 30,000 of us will wait below the Indian Summer sun. Sometime around 9:30 I’ll choke down a Pure Protein bar with a cup of coffee, change into my short black tights and red jersey, and begin towards the start.
I’m shooting to break 3:55, which if I run solid nine minute miles should be doable. But one never knows. There are a lot of people out there, tons of variables, and a whole lotta’ foot falls between the start and finish lines.
Wish me luck.