 |
| My team, me on the course, and of course my dad. |
Sign Up and History:
Around May of 2012, still dealing with the aftermath of my fathers passing and looking to do something to continue my Dad's battle in the fight against cancer, I decided to run on Fred's team of Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center to raise funds in my dad's name specifically against the disease that he had fought so hard against. The offer to join Fred's team, at the hospital he fought at and benefited from the research that I would begin to raise funds for, was too good to pass up. The team, named for Fred Lebow who was the founder of the NYC marathon and president of the New York Road Runners during the biggest expansion in running in the country and city (most of the time due to his vision), was dedicated after Mr. Lebow lost his own battle against cancer in the mid-90's after incredibly finishing the '92 race while undergoing treatments for brain cancer. Like so many other brave cancer patients and historic sporting events, the story behind the well publicized events is often deeper and more enriched than the stuff you hear on the news. I would learn over the next two years that there are thousands of people who run the marathon for charities, the story of Fred Lebow and the team that bares his name isn't known by enough people, and that the marathon itself somehow is more amazing than you would imagine despite being the worlds most famous, most covered, and largest attended race.
 |
| One of the early stat boards from the team meetings |
Back to May of 2012. I spent a weekend in Cape May, NJ with my wife who was down coaching her gymnastics team in state championships. She was a tremendous source of strength for me during those months (and all the other ones) and was the driving support in how I finished my marathon goal and reached my fundraising goals for Fred's Team. During this visit, while T was coaching her team to numerous new athletic heights (her team was once an afterthought at meets and not seriously a contender, but in a few short years her dedication and expertise had brought them to state prominence), I went for a run on the southern tip of Cape May near the lighthouse and then spent a little time at the beach cooling down from the run when the email that changed my life and would set me on a two year mission came in through my phone. It began simply enough with the subject line, "Can you imagine a world without cancer?". As I went through the email, it described a fund raising team set up to honor Fred with a mission of raising as much money as possible for cancer research where the proceeds would go to Sloan for cutting edge research. The email also described their mission as one that would not simply raise funds, but to do so in a way to honor loved ones and survivors of the team along the way. Perhaps still a little raw from the loss of my father and feeling good from a short beach run thinking about the chance to finally run the NYC marathon, I signed up immediately. Having run a marathon in NJ and many other distance races, I thought I knew what I had ahead of me ... little did I know it would be more of a roller coaster than I knew (mentally and emotionally) and that although the day of the race is the bucket list accomplishment that you expect it to be ... the journey was just as unbelievable.
Early Training
After several long distance races in the past few years, the challenge for this race was different. It wasn't a local race or a 5k, it was the famous NYC marathon that I watched as a kid on TV and said to my dad that someday I would run it. This made the idea to run it uniquely special and the challenge difficult as the field and course were tougher than I had ever raced against before. I remember my dad saying, when I told him I would run a marathon, that I could do anything I put my mind too. I also remember the look on his face at the finish line of the 2009 NJ marathon - he was so proud. He said, "I can't imagine running 26 miles. But, I knew you'd do it though once you said you would". I was very happy we had that moment in Long Branch, but to me I still had NYC in my mind. After failing to get in the lottery a few times while he was with us, I wasn't going to leave this time with a chance to honor him up to the lottery - Fred's team was something that gave me the guaranteed entry and a chance to honor him at the same time - it was the chance of a lifetime! The early runs in year one were smaller, easier runs around NJ. Within the first two weeks, I received so many offers of support through email, text messages, and calls that it was easy to get out on those early runs. The marathon however, isn't earned by the few early runs or regular fun runs ... the work is done on the mornings you don't want to get up, on the days you feel tired, and especially the days where the calendar calls for double digit runs during a busy work week. I signed up for several races and had a lot of weekend runs with my first Jersey running club - the Old Bridge Road Runners. By Fathers Day, I had run over 50 miles in the three weeks since signing up. Now it was a real goal. Our Fathers Day almost always consisted of sports events. There were numerous rounds of golf, a few baseball games, and the amazing day we spent at the US Open final at Beth Page Black in '02. Fathers Day was a sports day and will continue to be for me and dad. The only difference now is that he is with me in the runs I do ... fathers day 2012 - I do my first double digit run of the NYC training plan. It seems easier to do it on fathers day, but then again it always seemed easier when you have someone in your corner who told you that you can do anything you put your mind too. Some highlights of the first year of training are included in the Race Stories post I did a while back so I won't recount them here.
 |
| My dad and grandmother - with me on the longer runs! |
In thinking back on my run, is is hard to separate the feeling of doing this for my father and the outpouring of support from amazing people who made this run possible through donations to sponsor my run. My work staff donated over 400 dollars (I didn't publicize it, a teacher I spoke with found the page and sent it out without me knowing) - amazing caring teachers who give back to our community everyday and sending a few bucks from a stretched salary to help me achieve my dream. It was amazing and very humbling that they did that for me. I also received support from over a hundred friends, colleagues, and acquaintances who donated in ranges from 5 dollars to over 300. Each and every bit really did add up as I made my fund raising goal and secured my spot with plenty of time before the deadline to make the field for the race. My family: my mom, brother Keith, and Tracy's family all made amazingly generous donations that I can never repay with simple words. They did it to support me and to honor my dad. When you have people like this in your corner, you know you will achieve your goal no matter how big. My wife, who already supports me in everything I do, had her team collect money and donate it for my run. Again, with people like this on your side ... nothing is impossible. As part of my run, I decided to include the names of people who asked for their loved ones to be a part of the run for cancer research ... the names that came from friends, colleagues, and staff all came with the story of the loved one they donated for. Many had lost the fight, but they saw the donation and my jersey crossing the finish line as a way of keeping up the battle. Each time I got one of those donations with the story attached, I would go for a run and tag the person on social media or send a private email with a picture of the name added to the jersey. They all said how much it meant to them, but to me it was a simple small gesture because they were the ones who really made my dream come true by donating and allowing me to run this race. Again, the best part of the race was the stories, people, and mission to fight cancer by far. I found myself thinking that when the daily stories of scams or crime in the papers or the evening news got me down on the state of the world, I could renew my faith in people by talking to other runners about their mission, their helping loved ones that are fighting cancer, their desire to run for a cure, and their courage to try something that sounds ridiculous to most people (running 26.2 miles) because they wanted to support their families.
 |
| My race jersey with the names and medal from 2012 and 2013 |
 |
| This board follows the team, those who want to add a memory or mission can at any time |
Cancer had decided that it would make life difficult for all of these individuals no matter what their job, income level, or social class. When challenged, the members of Fred's Team collectively decided that they could all come together as a team and answer the challenge with a message of their own - we imagine a world without cancer, one mile at a time. One of the women that led some of the training runs was a childhood cancer patient at Sloan who was given less than a 10 percent chance of making her 15th birthday. She was over 40. She had beaten cancer 4 times. She ran sub 7 minute miles and kicked my butt on the paths daily. She is stronger than I will ever be. A father was running with us whose child was taken before his 10th birthday but the family went though trials to help other kids. He was in his 40's. He ran 12 minute miles and routinely made jokes about being slow. He told everyone he just wanted to help someone else not have to go through what his family did. He was stronger than I will ever be. These are the people I met running with Fred's Team on my journey to NYC.
 |
| Team Volunteers and Sloan staff sharing stories - November 2, 2013 |
Hurricane Sandy became an issue in mid to late-October of 2012 as it made its way up the coast. Reports by the day became worse. Strong winds, storm surges, and heavy rains would hit the tri-state worse than any recent storm. This post isn't the time for the storm stories or the way NYRR's made their decision to cancel the 2012 marathon. This story is a personal one about the run to honor my father. At our core and with all common sense in place, we all knew they had to cancel. The area was devastated, homes and lives gone forever, and the resulting fall out would last for months. I was happy they canceled. Too many people needed help and support and a race was the last thing anyone needed. However, it was natural to be down a bit. Training for a marathon takes months and is a serious mental and physical effort. To hear that all you worked for wasn't to be, especially being unsure if we'd be allowed to run the following year was tough. However, we had our lives, minimal property damage, and eventually the power came back on. All factors way more important than a race. I went to volunteer a few times in Seaside, Pt. Pleasant, and Tom's River. It was tough seeing what families went through. Within a few months, things were slowly moving on from the storm aftermath to regular planning. Fred's Team reached out via emails and calls to say that they were honoring our spot, our donations, and that we would all finish the mission we set out for in 2012. We were back on, but the training would start from scratch.
2013 Training
2013 was my biggest race year to date with more races than the other years combined. I honestly believe it was because of the cancelation the previous year. I decided that I would race more, train more, and be ready again to run the marathon. During the year, I attend a few survivors sessions where patients spoke of what the fund raising meant to them, doctors sessions where they explained (in technical terms so "explained" isn't the best choice of words) the fundings uses in cutting edge clinical trials and research, Besides running some great races and being pushed during group runs by the now growing Union Runners Club (an absolutely amazing group of supportive people to run with), I ran many Fred's Team Runs in 2013. There was a downtown run past the still growing WTC complex, the Brooklyn run to Coney Island, and the regularly scheduled runs in Central Park. Running with the team in Central Park was a treat/perk that had few equals during the journey. One of the most famous parks on the planet was our home course for runs, races, and training sessions. Water stations, tables, bag checks, and countless other supports were set up on every run next to the unofficial loop marker in the park - the statue of Fred Lebow which stands on 90th on the east end of the park. We were truly treated as the "home team" for a park that shows up in movies and on everyones "to do" list when visiting the city. Those runs included sections of the park I never knew about or experienced on my day trips in from Jersey. The Harlem Hills, Belvedere Castle, Cleopatra's Needle, the Met - these were our meeting and landmark spots. However, the spot we met at for the short runs was uniquely special. We regularly met at Bethesda Fountain for the shorter runs off the 72 Street Traverse. As much as I always say that the 2009 NJ marathon changed my professional trajectory ... it was the fountain five years earlier that was the setting for the most important life event I have still experienced ... I proposed to Tracy on a walk through the park in 2004 when we reached the fountain. I have never been a believe in the "things happen for a reason" philosophy, however the marathon training mission and locations has been something that I cannot explain.
 |
| The spot of the proposal and now our meeting spot on runs |
Amazing still to think about the Marathon training that year:
Most of the regular training runs I need to attend,
for the race I have always wanted to run since I was a kid,
in honor of my dad who fought cancer so bravely,
raising funds for the hospital where he fought,
were conducted at the place where my life changed forever when she said yes ... perfect.
Despite running the park hundreds of times, there isn't a time when I run by the fountain that I don't think about that day. She and I not perfect, but we are perfect for one another. All of the running accomplishments and the goal to try the NYC marathon was because she is so supportive and strong in her own right. And on the days when I was tired or hurting a bit, I now had two things to motivate me - my dads memory and running by the spot that will always be my favorite spot in the city because of her.
 |
| Tracy and I at a friends wedding |
The week of the marathon arrives and the excitement gets to the "I just want to get to the day already" stages. Months of training have come down to one week of final preparation work. The most frustrating thing about training for a distance race is the word that is dreaded by all runners - the taper! In training for long races, the idea is to slowly build a base, then run longer runs for a few months slowly working on pace and distance to ensure your body is ready to make it through the longer miles and tired legs (not to mention the hills in NYC miles 20-25) that the marathon has built into the end of the race, then a few weeks of "tapering" slowing bringing your distance down to ensure strong and fresh legs on the big day. This is a tough way to train, in fact the term taper is a curse word to most runners. Just when you feel like you could run through a brick wall or start to wonder just how many miles you could run ... you start limiting yourself. You feel strong, but stop. You feel fast, but back it down. Smarter than us, the coaches tell us that the goal is to feel that way the morning of the race but to have the strength and fresh legs to complete the task. They are rational and have many more races under their collective racing belts. To me, I just want those last few days to fly by and to finally get to the start line.
The evening before the race, Fred's Team puts on a carbo-load dinner at BB Kings Blues club in west Times Square / Hells Kitchen area of the city. The marquee of the restaurant, sitting in the buzzing loud, tourist riddled area at the "cross roads of the world" (as it went by in the early days), says "Welcome Fred's Team ... we run for a world without cancer" as you approach. Once inside, the atmosphere was very welcoming and positive. There was a red carpet, a photographer memorizing every moment of the lead up to the big race (including some not advised shots of us eating like we were about to run 26 miles), and a huge buffet in their private dining room (the restaurant was closed for the team for the whole night). However, the best part of the evening (other than Tracy joining me for the dinner and meeting some of the people I'd come to call teammates) was the speaking program. Speaker after speaker, the stories became more powerful. Several of our teammates who had fought cancer and won (and a few who were still fighting) spoke of their desire to finish the race for those that helped them and those who were lost along their treatments. Several doctors spoke of the decision to run and train for a marathon because of the strength they saw in their patients. Committed professionals who work insanely long shifts in a profession in which they literately hold peoples lives in their hands chose to give up months of sleep and free time to also train for a marathon in honor of their patients. A truly special place.
The second to last speaker described in detail some of the research being done at Sloan using the money raised from the team and how it was the only place in the world that had some of the technologies they were pioneering. The description of the science was fascinating (even if I didn't understand most of it), but his passion for finding a cure and his description of running the marathon a few times despite his size and age was even more compelling. I began to think that science and research at Sloan may be among the best in the world (the rankings for best hospitals in the US came out this week and unsurprisingly Sloan was rated the number one cancer hospital in the US again), but the single biggest factor that will eventually lead to the eradication of this disease was the caring, passion, and commitment to the people working there. I later found out that the doctor who was speaking that night was one of the top Oncologists and researchers in the world and we got to hear him describe stem cells and his favorite pair of Asics. The final doctor they chose was a German Oncologist who came to work on a fellowship years ago and stayed at Sloan due to the programs he was working on and his running his first marathon with the team some years back. He not only described the personal connections he had with the patients and the wins and losses he goes through daily with this disease, but he described that his favorite part of the marathon was running by the hospital (it is around mile marker 17 on the course) when all the staff and many patients are there with Fred's Team pom poms and signs saying thank you for running from them. Many of them children fighting cancer. He said after the race every year (he now runs the race every year), he takes his medal and some of the others he collected and gives them to the kids in the children's oncology wing and tells them that they won the race because they inspired him. It was only after he came down off the bright lights of the stage that I realized I had run with him a few times on training runs. No pretense, no doctor talk, nothing about the hero he has become to all those kids ... he just talked about his pace and how much he loved running the park. Running, especially for a cause, is just a universal language.
 |
| Once of the coaches during a pep-talk, he was running for relatives with cancer |
The morning of the race, we had a pre-race breakfast that was in the Marriott in Times Square. Again, more speeches and last minute coaching advise. The teammates I sit with are two I have talked to before (a wall street trader and an advertising agent who moved to NY from London a few years back - both really nice guys and both lost their dads as well, not much needs to be said sometimes with people you share that type of bond with ... we just talk the race and the Yankees offseason needs) and two I do not recognize ... The first gentleman tells me he is 72 and has run the race every year since it moved to five boroughs. He has since moved on to California, but he comes back for this. He tells me that the city is "like a movie the day of the race, it is the one day you feel like a rock star as an average Joe. You talk about the Yankees, even Jeter doesn't hear 2 million people cheer for him at once ... in the NYC marathon you will. When you come off the bride onto first avenue (Queensboro bridge onto first ave near the hospital), it will be louder than Yankee Stadium during the playoffs". I'll get more into that later, but for now I'll just say that he was right. The other man flew in from Japan. He is running the world marathon series this year and has run in London, Tokyo, Paris, Chicago, Berlin, and basically everywhere in between. He says his favorite is NYC. He says the energy here isn't something you feel anywhere else in the world and that though the course is harder than a few others he mentioned, but he adds ... his PR is here. We, as a group, say that it is awesome that his PR is in NY, he says it is all the spectators. They push him to run harder and faster because he feeds off the energy of the crowds here. He was right too. Finally - we have one last item of business to take care of before the bus ride to Staten Island - a group photo. In the center of Times Square, a camera man sets up on a ladder that I wouldn't use in my yard much less the middle of Manhattan. Police block traffic and we take a shot that can only be described as amazing. A sea of orange shirts, many people who several months ago were not running more than 2 miles are now looking excited about the fact that they will be running 26.2 miles and literally stopping traffic in the center of the busiest intersection in the country to let everyone know about their run. The ladder was worth it. I thank one of the officers who will give us a police escort for the buses to the race start. He says, "No thank you guys. The hospital does a lot of work for NYPD families and charities that doesn't get publicized and this is the least we can do. My mom had cancer last year and went to Sloan. She is still here because of them, kick some ass today".
 |
| Fred's Team - Team Photo Times Square November 3, 2013 |
The starting village is a sea of participants (I would find out later that day that due to the cancelation the previous year a record 50,740 ran the race) in different waves and corrals all excited, nervous, and ready to get underway. I am slated to start in one of the last waves by drawing and times as the professionals start out first. You can hear the gun as they begin the race and watching them run up the Verazano Bridge is something I will never forget. I have watched Jeter, Jordan, Lebron, Barry Sanders, etc all live at sporting events. All are amazing and individually the best in the world at one time. None of them is the athlete that the Kenyan who won that day and other elite marathons are. Sub 4 minute miles up a bridge, in November, with 26 more miles to go ... simply super human. Mutai wins with a 2:08 time that sounds good for a half marathon. I think he was back in Kenya by the time I will eventually cross the finish line. However... that is the beauty of the sport: road running is the one sport that allows truly open competition. The amazing sports stars I listed above, I would get arrested if I tried to play one on one with any of them. In racing, the stars and elite athletes complete on the same course, at the same time (a different wave), with the same spectators watching the race. After around 2 hours of check in, security, coffee, bathroom breaks, and several chats with other runners we are finally placed in our corrals. The feeling lining up with over 10,000 people in your wave knowing you are going to run past over 2 million people and that all you have been training for, thinking about, and agonizing over is finally here is truly surreal. You can't believe you are actually about to run the NYC marathon. I ask a guy next to me if the nerves go away, he says no. He has run 11 ... he is nervous too.
Finally, our waves gun goes off ... Boom! As we head up the Verrazano, Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York" plays ... "If I can, make it there ... I'll make it anywhere, its up to you ... New York, Neeeeew Yoooork". The words feel especially true today. The Jersey marathon was flat. NYC starts on a one mile incline up the bridge and then a run down the bridge through a long stretch of Brooklyn. Any nerves at the start are gone by the time you reach the apex of the bridge. The energy it takes to run up the bridge focuses you to realize you are actually running the race after all these months of waiting and training (and the sobering thought that after a hill, there are 25 more miles to go doesn't hurt either). No one told me that the bridge, from the weight of all the people running the bridge at the same time, literally bounces when you run - it is noticeable and a feeling I have never experienced running. The view from the bridge is amazing. You can see back into Jersey, The Statue of Liberty and Elis Island seem to be right under your feet, and the vast city of New York is all in front of you. You can see the full challenge ahead. Brooklyn is coming into prominence. Queens looks reachable, but is clearly a longer run ahead of you. The Bronx is only visible by the water ways that cut in front of it ... obscured by the skyscrapers of Manhattan. The park is also barely visible. But the view is amazing, one of my favorite moments of the race. Starting out on the mission to raise funds for my dad in the race that I have always wanted to run ... the city awaits below.
 |
| A long wait to start, but the climb was always in view |
 |
| The start - official photo from ING Marathon site |
Brooklyn (Miles 1.5 through 13)
If you are not from the tri-state, you probably have a very stereo-typical view of Brooklyn. In reality, Kings county is much more diverse and nicer place than the one that is portrayed in movies and popular culture references. It has always been one of my favorite locations to visit in the city and favorite places to run (Prospect park rivals Central Park in views, running, and history / Williamburg and Brooklyn Bridge Park are excellent spots for vendors and people watching / and Coney Island has always been a favorite stop for a unique beach/boardwalk experience - is hard to describe to someone who hasn't been there). Running into the borough off the bridge you immediately see the crowds. Some of the best spectators, most crowded streets, and by far the individually loudest people who come to the marathon every year are found in Brooklyn. As you enter 4th ave (a major road through the heart of Brooklyn), the people are everywhere ... hanging out of windows, sitting on rooftops, lining the sideways 7-10 deep, packing the bars which all seem to have bands playing towards the runners for inspiration. So many families with young kids line the streets ... motivational signs, kids who want high fives, and so many warm and welcoming people - coming together for a street party in Brooklyn for the marathon. The most miles of the marathon are in Brooklyn (12 of the 26.2 are in Brooklyn vs. just under 10 for Manhattan). Downtown Brooklyn was crowded and loaded with fans, other neighborhoods like Williamsburg, Clinton Hill, and Prospect all showed off their individual character well. I cannot put into words what it is like running through Brooklyn on Marathon Sunday other than they were simply the best spectators at the race - which surprises no one who has been to the borough with any regularity. More total people were in Manhattan, but Brooklyn was amazing.
 |
| Brooklyn was amazing - humor, cheering, and great neighborhoods |
Leaving northern Greenpoint Brooklyn, you pass over a small bridge into Queens. Hunters Point and Long Island City are growing neighborhoods that have all the markings of the gentrification currently going on in the city. New hotels, condominium developments, and nice restaurants are next to older run down buildings, dive bars, bodegas, and older homes. Queens has always seemed more diverse to me than the United Nations. Each block takes on the feel of a new, small independent country. It is another sadly mis-understood borough which has amazing people, great food, and little touches of old NY that you simply can't find in Disney-fied mid-town Manhattan. The spectators in Queens were awesome. They were loud and energetic. Some signs we encounter are now in Spanish, Chinese, and other languages - the new signs teamed up with the English signs are a welcome sign in Queens given how international the NYC marathon has become. You are only in Queens for a few miles, but it is an excellent transition from the beginning of the race to the tougher miles that signify the closing half of the race. You cross the 13.1 mile mark on the Pulaski into Queens ... a little 13.1 orange and blue sign that is framed with the Empire State Building behind it for a perfect "I'm halfway to my goal" picture. Of course, I stop to take the picture. Today isn't about the time, it is about me and my dad finishing his mission and enjoying the race I have always wanted to run. The best is yet to come, but already I am so grateful for all those who donated to my run and encouraged me to run. You finish your run through Queens with an eerily quiet Queensboro Bridge. After so much noise in Kings and Queens, the bridge is almost silent as you cross over Roosevelt Island.
 |
| Half way home in Queens! |
As you are coming down the second half of the Queensboro bridge, the noise of the crowd becomes more and more present. This was the section of the course I have heard about a hundred times while training and most recently from the gentleman in the morning breakfast that described it as Yankee Stadium playoff-level. It grows louder with each stride. As you start down the final off ramp, it becomes deafening - easily drowning out my music through the headphones. I pause for a minute to look off the bridge an remove my headphones, the crowd on First Ave. near the bridge through the hospital area is 15-20 deep and screaming their lungs out. One section right off the on-ramp is just chanting, "Go, go, go" over and over. Other smaller sections are paying close attention to the running bibs to call out each runner by name. 50,000 runners, 2 million spectators and many of the crowd bring it back to just finding your name to yell, "You're kicking butt Scot", "Keep going Scot", etc. The man I met this morning was right. The feeling that you always wish you could get when you watch an ovation for the sports stars on ESPN and the energy of the crowd is yours for the day. The people of the city are amazing that way. The leaders ran through this area hours ago while many of us will limp home with times that would embarrass every track athlete on the planet, but yet here is over two million people (First Ave was estimated to have over 200,000 people alone) cheering for you personally and spending their day cheering on a loved one, but also complete strangers. I would come to steal the gentleman's breakfast analogy as people asked me what it was like. I now say there are parts of Brooklyn, Central Park finishing area, and especially that canyon that is First Ave which make you feel like Derek Jeter at the Stadium ... except having been to both, it is louder on First Ave. and they scream your name!
 |
| The view coming down the Queensboro - the noise growing! |
At mile 17 you approach the hospital. It was everything the runners and doctors described the night before. Kids fighting cancer, nurses, doctors and runners relatives all waving and cheering. The signs and kids brought tears. "Thank you for running when I can't run for myself" held up by one little girl with no hair from treatment, "You are my heroes Fred's Team" held by another teenage boy. I started out to honor my dad, seeing the kids was a bonus that can't be described. I can only hope that the money we raised makes a difference in the fight and hopefully in time for the kids on that street that day. They were amazing.
 |
| The run by the hospital cannot be described - seeing the kids, patients, and families is something I will never forget |
 |
| The shot Tracy took of me coming towards them down First Ave. |
Off the high of seeing family, the hospital, and the stadium moment we all crave as little league players ... it set in that the toughest part of the course remained in front of me. In a 26.2 miles race you play games in your head constantly. A few hundred feet back I was ready to finish strong and feeling like I could take on the world ... then I hit the Bronx and THE WALL (which is famed in distance running as the time you either give up or push through). The final 6 plus miles in NYC is cruel and clearly designed to break you. It starts with a climb up the Willis Ave. bridge and immediately you are in a hilly section of the south Bronx. I have always loved the Bronx, mainly because my die-hard Yankee fandom but also because the people here are so unique and honest. You can tell someone is from the Bronx way before they open their mouths. The Bronx produces characters. One of the biggest characters was Tracy's grandfather Artie. A spitting image of Joe Paterno, he always had a smile and a way of making you feel special and welcome. We had lost Artie in the months leading up to the marathon. The mile and a half section of the bronx was to be my tribute to him and all the laughs, slices of homemade pizza, and beers we shared. I stopped to post a picture of him with the Bronx signs that welcome you to the most outspoken borough. He was a great guy. I think of him and my dad a lot. I keep wondering why the truly good guys keep getting taken from us. Thoughts for another day or time, but for the marathon run I'll smile and think of his famous offer of Grappa or Paisano ("No grapes") and his smile and keep running. Today is about honoring all those cancer touched ... one mile at a time. The miles in the Bronx will always be Artie's miles.
 |
| Arthur Serpentino from our wedding day |
As you come down off the Madison Ave bridge, you reenter Manhattan. As I said, the last 6 plus miles have two bridges and all the hills of the Bronx and northern Manhattan to greet legs that have already run 20. I think back to the Sinatra line, "If you can make it here ... ". They did the same thing for the marathon. The course is set up to ask you, "Sure, you think you can run 26.2 miles ... but can you finish strong on the hills?" Coming down 5th Ave around Marcus Garvey Park in Harlem is another awesome experience. The culture and the music in Harlem is like no where else in the world in such a small concentrated area. The park and 5th ave. have jazz and funk music playing and the residents all seem to have their own water, orange slices, and bananas that they are offering. For a brief mile or so, despite the number of people, it almost feels like a local 5k because the people of Harlem are welcoming you to their neighborhood personally. It was wonderful. As you enter the climb up Fifth Ave's steepest areas you also start to pass the museums that make the city such a great cultural destination (the Guggenheim, MET, and numerous other amazing landmarks are on the home stretch of fifth ave). As you enter the park you pass the section where many of my training runs started near the Fred Lebow statue and there is another Fred's Team cheering section there cheering you on. The team couldn't be more supportive and the volunteers and staff who work for the team and hospital make you feel so valued and proud to be working with them. The statue, a usual mile marker for us, is now gone ... it is moved to the finish line every year for the race as a tribute to the man who many know as the father of the NYC marathon, but who many more are coming to know as the man who inspired the creation of a team that has raised over 50 million dollars for cancer research.
 |
| Harlem was a musically amazing and tasty place to run through |
 |
| The banner coming into the park calling you to the finish |
 |
| Tracy and I at the race finish line |
Post Race Thoughts
The dinner with family that night, seeing my niece, and the hundreds of calls, social media messages, and emails to follow were simply amazing. Over 50,000 people finished the race and each and every person gets to feel like they won their own version of the marathon. Sure, the Kenyans finished 3 hours before me, won hundreds of thousands of dollars, got endorsement deals, and the ESPN interviews ... but I did the best I could for my dad. And in a way that makes us all winners. I later was floored by the stats that you don't consider day to day when you train for something like this. .05% of the people in the United States have finished a marathon and the percentage drops to even lower than that for people who have run multiple marathons. Although my time wasn't great, I am very proud of being a multiple marathon finisher. My final contribution (raised donations to Sloan Kettering) between 2012 and 2013 was $7, 198 (with $3,775.00 coming the year I ran the marathon). It feels like such a drop in the bucket compared to what is needed to fight the disease. I wish I could have raised even more money in honor of my father and for all those who still fight. But I am proud that I could (along with everyone who donated to my run) do something. Our 2013 team raised over 2 million dollars. To date, Fred's Team has raised over 54 MILLION dollars for cancer research at Sloan Kettering since starting in 1995. I sincerely hope to run with them again some day as the stories and people I met along the way will always inspire and be with me during my races and my life in general for as long as I am here. The marathon, while a one day event, was so much more than that for me. It was a chance to finish my dads mission, to achieve something I always wanted to do, and to be a part of the fight for those who are fighting their own battles themselves right now because of their treatments for this disease. As for the marathon, I will be back, but it will never top the run that my dad and I had in 2013.
 |
| Final stats: Two years of training, 5 hours of racing, $7,198 dollars raised personally Fred's Team: 2 million dollars as a team in 2013 and 54 Million to date But the feeling that my dad may be proud of keeping up his fight: Priceless! |
No comments:
Post a Comment