6 posts tagged “new york city marathon”
My First Marathon
"A triumph of the will over all limits." That is what it says on the back of my New York City Marathon medal, a quote from the great Alberto Salazar. That is the story of my first 26.2 mile run, and here is a final wrapup for all my friends and family who were so kind to support me during this quest.
Marathon Eve
On Saturday, Nov. 3, I went to our Team for Kids party at the legendary China Club in the heart of Times Square. It was wonderful. We all talked about the work we had done to raise money for a fabulous cause -- fighting childhood obesity and creating running programs for children -- and it was so cool to meet others in that shared experience. Thanks to the support of so many wonderful family and friends, we raised $2764 from 60 donations, contributing to a total of $3.5 million raised by us 1,000 runners. That evening, I watched the on-demand movie "Invincible" starring Mark Wahlberg -- for inspiration. The Barilla Marathon Eve dinner was at Tavern on the Green, which is one of the most beautiful settings for a dinner you can ever imagine. The pasta itself was decidedly horrible, and I have decided that next year I will enjoy a pre-race Italian dinner at Carmine's. But it was nice to be around other runners.
After eating, it was nice to walk out to the Finish line area, which is adjacent to Tavern on the Green. I started walking backwards on the race route. Suddenly I came to the Mile 26 sign. A man there asked to have his picture taken, saying, "Just in case I don't make it here tomorrow." I put a hand on his shoulder and said, "Sir, both of us will be here tomorrow. We will never forget this spot and this moment." Then we both laughed. And we would get back here.
This photo below was important to me for another reason. The night before was a beautiful pink sunset over Central Park, but what I remember was these gorgeous London Planes and other trees that are among 26,000 trees in the park. By finishing the New York City Marathon, I knew that I would have a new beginning and a new ending for my currently 210-page book manuscript "Trees and Numbers." This was the quintessential part of my book. The trees. The numbers. It is running. It is baseball. It is digital. It is life. Everything in life begins with Trees and Numbers, the original street naming grid in my hometown of Evansville, Indiana.
Here is the sign that was on my back for the ING New York City Marathon 2007. I lost my Dad last year and dedicated the race to him. I cried for him when I went under the Mile 26 sign. I also dedicated it to my beautiful and bright sons Matthew, Benjamin and Joshua. It was our race together. I was so happy to know that my boys would be tracking me on Sunday.
My friend Sherry was here and she did a great job with the signs. I pledged to everyone that I would dance across the finish line. There is a 1981 Solid Gold video on youtube by Peaches & Herb, "Shake Your Groove Thing." Herb wore lime in that video just like I was going to wear.
Race Morning
I woke up at 3:26 a.m. ET on Sunday, November 4. It was more time than I needed, but I wasn't going to take any chances whatsoever. I had a banana and toast. Then it was time to place two temporary tattoos on my face. One was the University of Kentucky Wildcat logo. One was the UK letter logo. They are on behalf of my Dad, who was a diehard UK football and basketball season-ticket holder, whose ashes were spread in 2006 on the UK football field 50-yard line. This was my tribute to my Dad. Thank you to Sherry for ordering them online for me; they showed up on the Friday before the race, just in time!
That's me on the bus. At 5:20 a.m., I arrived by taxi at 51st Street between Sixth and Seventh avenues. That's where all the Team for Kids charter buses were waiting for us. It is one of the unquestioned benefits of being part of TFK, of all those months of trying my best to raise funds for a wonderful cause. They are such a wonderful organization and this is where you really get some payback! We had a police escort all the way to Staten Island, we had instant seating (I was the third person on the bus), and it was VIP all the way, baby!!!!!
I looked out the window above and, voila, there was Cafe Duke! I walked off the bus, went over and got a croissant and a green tea, below.
When each of us boarded the buses, we were handed an envelope. Inside was a card signed by a different child who benefited from Team for Kids. If you are reading this, then watch closely because you are opening this card with me. Thank you on their behalf.
Look at the shadow that the Verrazano Narrows Bridge made on Staten Island and Fort Wadsworth at sunrise! You can see the mighty bridge's posts.
And there they are. The runners. There will be 40,000 of us.
I
turned around as we filed into the village, and there was Chewbacca and
Yoda. I ran behind the Star Wars characters through Brooklyn. All I
could think of when I looked at Chewbacca, wearing that heavy sweat
suit, was: "Why."
Tens of thousands of runners camped out in the Fort Wadsworth village, braced against a breezy chill in the hours before the race. It was very cushy inside the Team for Kids tent! Another benefit of raising a whole lot of money during the summer. I staked out my little patch of grass on a towel and snoozed for a half-hour. It was fun to mingle with other TFK runners who had all gone through the same experience.
This is me with Lydia, who is the head of operations for Team for Kids. Lyd bravely fought AND BEAT breast cancer two years ago and she is a triumphant soul who inspires you and who encouraged us for months. It was SO cool to finally meet her on this weekend.
Below is me with a very special runner. Her name is Alicia, and a lot of people know her as Maz. She is kind of one of the leaders of the TFK runners, a truly outgoing and friendly and well-liked fellow runner, and on this morning she had a magic marker and was even more popular than ever. There was constantly a line of runners asking Alicia if she would please mark their names on their bodies, so she was constantly writing on limbs. I stuck my lower leg out and said, "Alicia, would you mind one more?" She wrote "MARK" in green beneath my knee. Because of that, thousands of citizens screamed my name that day. I am so glad I asked. If you ever run a New York City Marathon, whatever you do, remember this: PUT YOUR NAME ALL OVER YOUR BODY!!!! It is the best advice I can give any future NYC Marathoner.
There's an even better look at my UK Wildcat tat.
ING NEW YORK CITY MARATHON 2007
THE START: Runners were divided into Blue, Green and Orange corrals. I was assigned to Blue. I made a friend there named Sean, a guy who works for race sponsor ING based in Atlanta. Something happened here that I will never forget. It will be possibly the very beginning of my book as I start writing this month. We were herded forward amongst one oak tree after another, all passing signs that read 3000-3500, 3600-4000, etc, marking bib numbers. Trees and Numbers are all that you could possibly experience visually in those moments. It is the purest essence of my book. We finally moved up toward the V-N Bridge, and it was quite a scene to hurdle over sweatshirts and sweatpants and jackets and other gear that runners left behind for a charity that will need our clothing. We were off and running: My first marathon ever. HERE IS A BRIGHTROOM.COM PHOTO: I'M THE GUY IN LEMON-LIME!!!
MILE
1: I remember being in the middle of the V-N Bridge, and there was a
guy standing on the edge, peeing into the Atlantic Ocean. It was like
he was communicating with the ship that was spraying streams of water
to celebrate the start of the race.
MILE 3: Someone clipped my foot from behind. I wiped out on the pavement. Fortunately, I called upon my taekwondo instincts, and I did a tumble roll on the street, bouncing right back up, dusting off my hands, and thinking: "OK, who saw that?" hahahaha I just kept running. Welcome to your first New York City Marathon, Mark!!!! Just then a guy held a sign that read: "FINISHING IS THE ONLY F**KING OPTION!" Lots of roars for that one.
MILE 4: I will be estimating mileage at this point. There were 120 bands. The one I remember most was a beautiful Baptist Church to our left, and lining the sidewalk out front was their gospel choir, all singing for us. It is so humbling. You just raise your fist into the air, hoping they will see you, that you are thanking them for entering your consciousness for a minute as you fly by.
I knew Fourth Avenue would last forever. You really can't know it until you experience it, though. It was like Forrest Gump running across the country. I gave a thousand high-fives to people, especially very small children. I loved the changing cultures. Every community was different, in race and face and music and architecture. Fluid stations featured Gatorade in front, and if you wanted water, you ran toward the end of the stations.
It was on this mile that I felt my first twinge of plantar fasciitis in my right foot.
Mile 7: I just remember a guy in front of me saying to someone: "See that big building up ahead? That's Mile 8." Indeed. It was the building I had stared at over and over and over in visualizing the course in the week before, with my youtube video and at the ING area at the Expo.
Mile 10-12: I love you, Williamsburg. It was such a cool part of Brooklyn. I cannot say adequately enough how much those people helped me. They came out in shocking force. The screamed my name constantly. At Mile 11, my right foot was officially my enemy for the rest of the day. It was aching just as it had in Long Training Run No. 2, when I had to limp back home. This time, it would not matter. I would run through whatever pain my body offered. It hurt like hell. I was looking around for my colleague Gur while running; you have no chance of spotting someone (vice-versa) in this crowd unless you specify the street corner precisely.
Half-Marathon: My time was 2:48. I was very happy with that. My TFK coaches had told me to think "10-10-10". 10 miles, 10 miles and a 10K, running the second 10 faster than the first, and the 10K faster than all three. Save up, save up, save up in the first 10 miles. I tried to pace myself during that time. I was on track, I felt. At that point, I saw a pay phone booth on the sidewalk. I jumped over the barricade and placed a collect call to my Mom. "Hi, Mom, I'm halfway done, about to leave Brooklyn for Queens." It was so funny. I felt so glad to talk to my Mom. She isn't wired on a computer. My boys were charting my progress back in St. Louis online, so was my brother Tim in Colorado Springs, so were others all over thanks to technology. I went back onto the street to run, and at the end of the block I stopped again.
It was an English Bulldog. Right in the middle of the intersection. You guys know me. I spent 5 minutes hugging and petting that English Bulldog. Maybe 8 minutes. Maybe my six hour time was because of that. "You ready to run?" I asked him, knowing that the bully I had could not run 26.2 inches. Every time I run Central Park, I see a bully and have to pet it.
QUEENS: It was hard to run uphill over the Queensboro Bridge. For one thing, there was a gorgeous panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline, and I stopped to admire it. Things were starting to hit me. My foot was breaking off. After getting over the bridge, something happened. Four Team for Kids teammates, including Alicia (pictured above, the limb-marker), came up from behind and she said, "C'mon, do this for your boys!" (It was on that sign on my back.) I said, "My foot is killing me!" Alicia said, "I know! So is my hip! Let's go!" I ran with them. For a mile. Then I lost them. It would be a bad mistake, but my body gave me no choice. I listened to my iPod. We can now put any "controvery" to bed over marathons and iPods. Katie Holmes' picture wearing hers is all over the world. I listened to mine when I want. If you are a race director and you do not permit iPods, then congratulations, you are a loser and you sound kind of like a book-burner. It's 2007 and Apple is responsible for part of this new runner boom.
BRIDGE TO MANHATTAN, MILE 16: Queens didn't last long, fortunately. But what did last long was the longest bridge in the history of human civilization. Or so it seemed. It was dark and tunnelly, trying to get across the East River, running, walking, running, walking, dying. Massive pain. I knew that heaven lie on the other side -- those legendary crowds along First Avenue, just waiting for you. In the middle of the bridge, there was a series of signs. They said: "If Easy Means Having Only 10 Miles Left"..."Then Welcome To Easy"..."Welcome To Manhattan." The moment finally came, after Mile 16. And the crowds were glorious.
MANHATTAN/FIRST AVENUE: I did my best. Every time the crowds screamed: "Let's Go Mark! You Can Do It!!!!" I made myself run. But at Mile 18, my quads bonked. I could no longer lift my legs up to run. It was the ONLY thing other than my right foot that went on the fritz today. There were always med tents (they are great) and I stopped in the next one. "What is wrong?," the Latin woman asked me. "My quads bonked," I said. Funny, she knew exactly what I meant. She put me on a stretcher, and proceeded to give me a painfully exuberant and effective deep muscle leg rub, and then put icepacks on both thighs. She gave me two Tylenol. Then she threw me out onto the street like dirty water. "What do I do now?" I said. "Stretch. Walk," she said. I did. Then I ran. Somehow. Then there was a fluid station with lots of cold green sponges, and also PowerBar gels. A little girl gave me pretzels. "Do you know why we like pretzels?" I said to her, down on my knees. She was maybe 5. "No, why Mister?" she said. I said, "Because the salt makes us run faster. It is like magic to me right now. Thank you." She smiled at me and I smiled back, then I ran. A woman held a sign that read: "I WANT TO DATE A MARATHON MAN!" I ran along her side of the fence.
MILE 20/THE BRONX: First Avenue was like the Equator. It just kept going forever. And it was completely uphill, gradually, painfully, unmercifully. I ran. I walked. I ran. I walked. Then I got to The Bronx and I saw the Mile 20 sign, and THAT IS WHEN IT HIT ME: You are going to finish a Marathon. I made myself run. I have to say a quick word here, first:
THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A WALL!!!!!
There. I have been wanting to say that. I think that the constantly referred-to term of "The Wall" is complete and utter bullshit. I think it is in the mind. It is one thing to have your quads just stop on you. But I don't buy into The Wall. That is a mindset. If your mind is strong, there is no such thing. You will never convince me otherwise. I am glad I learned that for myself.
MILES 21-22/HARLEM: We left The Bronx by crossing over the Madison Avenue Bridge. At the bottom of the hill was a rhythm-and-blues band playing, and I veered to my right while the other runners banked left, and right then and there I DANCED with the band. They all got into it. They had a runner dancing with them. I forgot all about my foot, all about my quads, all about my time. I danced, Lee Ann Womack. Yes, I definitely danced in Harlem.
MILE 23: It hit me at Fifth Avenue and 130th Street that I know exactly where I am. I could measure my distance in MY MILEAGE. I knew that 20 blocks equal one mile. So to get from 130th to 59, or the bottom of Central Park, I had to shave off 70 blocks, or 3 1/2 miles. Just chunk it, Mark. It seemed too big at that moment. I ran. I walked. I ran. I walked. I was giving in again. Then I would tell myself: NO!!!! THIS IS YOUR MARATHON!!! DO NOT GIVE IN!!! I would stop and drag my right foot at a 90-degree angle, trying to relieve the pain, squishing my foot against an edge of the sole. Then I would run again. I was doing what my TFK coach Courtney had told me at Mile 11. I was landing on the outer edge, then the inner edge, then on my toes, then on my heel, then the middle. I did that constantly, trying to "distribute the pounding." It might have been only psychological, but it was all I could do. You know what was funny? In the 20's, there were times when I forgot about the pain, because the pain was so constant; it's like my body was trying to make the pain go away. For a while it would. Then I saw it: 110th Street. I had reached Central Park. My turf.
MILE 24: It took a long time to get to the 90th Street entrance of Central Park, where the course veers to the right. It was uphill getting there, and I lost a lot of time in those 20 blocks. Then I was running clockwise on my familiar regular course, toward Cat Hill. That's when I saw the first people on the course I knew. "NEWMAN!!!!" came the shout on the right. It was Gregg, the guy who sits next to me at work, and his wife. He came out and gave me a hug, and I thanked them for coming out. He saw that I was crying. I was way past worrying about that. "Kind of emotional right now," I said, wiping my face with my wristbands. I had just crossed under the MILE 24 sign. It had made me think of my Dad...that I was almost there.
MILE 25: We went past the Boathouse, and I crossed my chest and said a prayer for Ryan Shay, who had collapsed and died right there a day earlier in the U.S. Olympic Men's Marathon Trial. I kept running, which was actually symbolic, as that is what happened in the bigger picture, after that Saturday tragedy. Humanity moved on, in spite of a fallen comrade. Everyone had his or her own story. Mine continued as I reached the turnoff out of the park and onto 59th Street. Then it was a sharp right turn, and there were the crowds again. I was so proud to be a New Yorker. They shouted at me so loud. My legs buckled, and I dragged my right foot sideways again, once again as if it were a broken appendage. I could barely feel it. It had hurt since Mile 4. Why was I still running? How was I still running? "JUST KEEP MOVING, MARK! YOU'RE DOING THE RIGHT THING! JUST KEEP MOVING!" I will never forget that woman's voice. I looked up into the sky as I ran. I closed my eyes. I gritted my teeth. My strides continued. I made it over to the other side of the park, and at Columbus Circle we turned back in for the home stretch.
MILE 26: And that is where I saw the MILE 26 sign that my new friend and I had talked about the night before (see above). I remembered that moment. But mostly, I thought of my Dad. I broke down right there. I cried like a fire hydrant opened up full. I didn't care who saw me cry. That was my Dad. I looked up at the sky at him. I said, "Dad, take me home." The sign said 600 yards to go. THREE FOOTBALL FIELDS. That seemed forever. I thought of running football fields in high school. It was too big a thought. Just put one foot in front of the other, Mark. "Dad, take me home." I looked up at the sky again. I prayed. I talked to my Dad. The finish line was up ahead. It was bright blue, big and beautiful, like reaching the ocean.
THE FINISH: I raised both arms as high as I could, to touch the sky and hug my Dad. I smiled. I went under the finish line. As I did, I danced again, just like I had in Harlem. I did a Nelly to the left, a Nelly to the right, and a Nelly to the left. The crowd laughed -- I don't think many other runners danced across the finish line. Then they put a medal around my neck. They took my picture. They put one of those solar blankets around me. I limped horribly back to Cherry Hill on 72nd Street, to the TFK tent where our checked bags were waiting. I ate a sandwich, an apple, drank more. I went home and took an ice bath, screaming the whole time and lasting exactly one minute. I took a hot bath with epsom salts. I had a piece of buttercream cake from Alice's Teacup next door. I had several Coors Lights to go with a delivery order of babyback ribs and a baked potato from Dallas BBQ. I took Motrin. I was a marathoner.
MY TIME: 6:08. It gives me something to SHATTER in my next marathon. I am a little bummed out that I was so slow that I did not make it into the New York Times, and my fellow runners who I talk to all the time know how frustrated I was by that number. But it's something I can deal with. The best email I got was from Bob, head of the Big Cats runner club of which I am a part nationally, and he said, "Congrats on a huge accomplishment!! Times will drop - they always do! The first race is just your first PR!" That meant a lot. I know the reason for it personally, and that only matters in terms of MY OWN EXPECTATIONS.
Here's what the medal looks like close-up.
The Day After
On Monday, November 5, I limped back to Tavern on the Green, where they had the Marathon Monday store. I got my medal engraved with my name and time on the back. I got a Finisher cap. I again read the words on the back of my medal, and they are perfect, considering what I had just gone through: "A triumph of the will over all the limits." I got back to my apartment after painstakingly climbing up a few flights (good to keep moving), and I looked at the silver keyfob on my keychain. It said "ING New York City Marathon." My boss Geoff had given me that last winter, the first time I realized that I wasn't the only one who thought I could perhaps do this. I just nodded my head, and then unlocked my door, and started my new life as a marathoner. I haven't decided my next move. I just want to be a good Dad, I want to be better than ever at what I do every day, I want to finish a book manuscript now that I've finished a marathon, I want to let my right foot heal, and then I want to go 26.2 again.
Hey, guys. I just took an ice bath and am in an enormous amount of pain right now and going through a full range of emotions in the most spectacular day of my 48-year-old life other than the birth of my three beautiful sons Matt, Ben and Josh. I will blog much more. I mainly wanted to thank everyone for your beautiful comments and for your thoughts. I congratulate any other friends I have who ran in the New York City Marathon as well. Let me just take the time quickly here to tell you my emotions, and I will get to the fun details later.
Proud. I am so proud to be a New Yorker. I had heard so much about the crowds lining the 26.2 mile course. Nothing, nothing at all, could prepare you for what you experience. Strangers screamed "Let's Go Mark!" and "You're Doing Great Mark!" and "Looking Good Mark!" all day, probably over 2,000 or 3,000 times conservatively. I felt like I had friends from start to finish...and I did. I can think of at least 25 times specifically when I was walking and struggling and someone pushed me, and as a result of their encouragement I suddenly was running. It really happens. It meant the world...it cannot possibly be articulated here.
Overcome with emotion. When I ran under the 24 Mile mark inside Central Park, I started to cry as all those darn people were watching on both sides. I kept running with as much heart as I could muster. My plantar fasciitis started at Mile 4 and it got worse all day but I breathed in the pain and did the best I could despite finishing with an embarrassing time (6:08 net -- you guys know me and you know how I feel about that). It doesn't matter (much). Time doesn't matter to me. What matters is that when I came upon the finish line at Tavern on the Green and ran under that 26 Mile mark, I broke down like a baby while I was running and thought of my Dad. This was about him and my boys, all of whom were on the sign on my back. I regained my composure to cross the finish line with my arms high in the air and a big smile, and HERE YOU GO MY PEOPLE -- I am pretty sure I was the only runner, judging by the crowd reaction, who DANCED across the finish line. I did a Nelly to the left, a Nelly to the right, a Nelly to the left, and it felt so damn good. Dad, this was for you.
Thankful. I am just so thankful that I made the decision to stop smoking last December and to become a runner. I know that I could knock an hour and a half off my time just by my right foot healing -- if it ever can. I thought it would have by not running on it for all of October. I am a runner now, I am hooked. I just loved today, from the early bus ride to running over the Verrazano Narrows Bridge to high-fiving over 1,000 children along the way. If I hadn't stopped to pet an English Bulldog for 5 minutes, if I hadn't stopped to call my Mom collect from a pay phone booth at the 13 Mile mark (haha), I would have broken 6 hours. Ha. And that brings me to this:
Living in the Moment. I can honestly say that no one lived in the moment today more than me out of the 40,000 runner field. I can guarantee you that. I soaked it all in, I appreciated every step of the way, and those people...it was a memory and a moment that no one ever will be able to take away from me now.
I will blog lots of pictures, videos and details at some point later. I have to rest. Thank you all...Mark
ps, here is the link to the marathon results page, and I'm runner 26323.
I am runner number 26323 in the ING New York City Marathon.
The Time is Now.
After chronicling my odyssey all season, since I started distance running last December, it is time. I just returned from the World Series in Denver, where we put the 103rd Fall Classic to bed, where I spent so much time talking with Red Sox fans and writing their stories on MLB.com, and looking back I have to say that it was the best Major League Baseball season that I remember in my lifetime. I will put it up there with '41, '69 or any other season from the past that has inspired so many books and legends. No year ever could match this one for magical milestones (3000/500s/600/300 and important records (home run king), 3 no-hitters, unprecedented competitiveness involving seemingly everyone into September, and a fourth straight year of overall record attendance. It is simply the greatest time in baseball history. And that's saying something with this sport. This year had it all, and in the end it had the team with the best record winning the world championship. Congrats again to the Red Sox. I was there for both of their sweeps, at St. Louis and at Colorado, and this one was just as sweet for them. My favorite memory will be of being in Cleveland's visitor's clubhouse at about 2 a.m. on getaway night after Game 5, and Manny is sitting there wearing a ridiculous purple tie and black pants, and Big Papi gets up from the couch next to him, walks around the media and comes back and says to him: "Why don't you tell them where the funeral is." Just being around Manny is funny.
Now it is time for the other marathon. The New York City Marathon. I am ready for my first 26.2. I just watched a commercial for it on NBC here in Manhattan, and that just got me a little nervous. I have been visualizing it, mainly by using this youtube video. One of my Team for Kids teammates posted the link on our site, and I think it is a great example of how today's technology lets an athlete visualize better than ever.
My goal is to finish between 4:30 and 5:45. I drained myself with a bug on the final weekend in Denver and am spending this final week replenishing, constantly hydrating, eating right. Starting tomorrow, I will begin carbing up. The TFK coaches have been incredible, all of them veterans of this event. I am also VERY proud to say that I raised over $2700 for Team for Kids, well over my required fundraising amount to run this year's marathon. Next year I am already guaranteed entry, and I already know that I will want to help a cause in pursuit of that one as well even if it's not required. It is one of the best things about being a runner, to me. I love running, and now I have a big, scary, incredible race about to happen.
I have been cranking my favorite training tune loud -- Nelly's Heart of a Champion. That's my theme for this one. I have learned to overcome so many things. I am looking forward to putting the new beginning and ending on my 210-page manuscript "Trees and Numbers" after I finish this marathon, or at least after I recover from it. Never have I seen a greater example of Trees and Numbers than this booming sport, where the Half-Marathon is now so common in small towns everywhere. I know that I have timed this one perfectly, this boom and this book audience. I am so excited about that, and my next big goal will be a bestseller in the next 18 months. But enough talk. It's time to run. Thank you all for spending a marathon season with me. Baseball is over, and now it's my other big event.
I am runner 26323 in the ING New York City Marathon.
That's how long until the ING New York City Marathon according to their website. I am in my own little private bootcamp now and Central Park is my private Olympic training center. After 11 days on the DL due to the lower right back/right hip injury caused two nights before the Nike Half, I cleared myself to resume training (three days before the doctor said OK) and am back "in the game." I ran six miles around the park on Saturday morning and was pain-free, which was a huge relief. I thought about entering that morning McDonald's Fitness 4M run with thousands of others, but instead I ran against the grain and watched them, focusing only on my marathon prep. I had some discomfort in my right arch area while running, as I was just unused to my Asics after 11 days off. That resulted in a bruised right arch, so I iced a lot, rested it Sunday, and then this morning I went back and ran five miles on the Lower 5 loop. It was OK, some pain in the last mile and kind of sore now. But compared to the back/hip injury, this is nothing. That's 11 miles in three days, which is a good start getting back on track. I have fallen behind quite a bit and the jury is out on whether I will enter Saturday's NYC Marathon Long Training Run #2 at Central Park, which is anywhere from 6 to 20 miles depending on your preference. My Team for Kids teammates will be running 18 at least. I won't be up for that yet, even though I ran a comfortable 16 a few weeks ago. Lost too much fitness in those 11 days. I'll get there. I am focused. My gameface is on. I'm doing ab work with an exercise ball at home, as well as on the grass off the running path, and I'm back to doing park bench push-ups front/reverse. Lots of stretching. Lots of sweating. Biggest obstacle is controlling my calorie intake, wanting to eat everything in sight because I am working up an appetite. Any members of the "Foodies" group here, I included this post because I welcome anyone's thoughts as I really need to guard myself against overeating and want to lose about 10. I'm drinking over 100 oz water a day, eating chicken, brown rice, too much pasta, too much buttered wheat bread, too many peanuts, etc. Some good, some bad. I'm glad I got the buzzcut, feels great to run and sweat and just pour water over my head and rub it off. Time to run.
Thanks to anyone who has chosen to donate to Team for Kids as a way of supporting my first marathon! I am up to $1,980 I believe, and my required fundraising total is $2500. So I'm getting there, and I am relying on my friends and family and colleagues to help that great cause and make a difference with me. I also encourage anyone who is in the New York City area on November 4 to come on out and cheer! It's going to be an unreal scene. I think about it all the time and keep looking at the course map and videos of past NYC Marathons and everything I am supposed to know. Meanwhile, I am baseball around the clock, and the most historic season in Major League Baseball history is about to have another unbelievably wild finish with a spectacular October. What a life right now...this is crazy.
Just don't let it be a World Series Game 7 on Nov. 1 in Anaheim! I'll need some rest!
Mark
Team for Kids Donation Form | Entry 94714 | Newman
Dear all my awesome friends:
Have you ever wondered what you can do to make a difference?
I did, and I found a way: I'm running the ING New York City Marathon 2007 as a member of Team for Kids.
In the past five years, Team for Kids members have raised more than $5 million to support running-based fitness and goal-setting programs for 25,000 schoolchildren a week in New York, San Francisco, Washington DC, Tampa, Tennessee, and South Africa. These classes target at-risk kids -- most of whom don't have physical education in their schools.
You can ensure that more kids benefit from NYRR's youth services by sponsoring my run. You can pledge $1.00 for every mile I run ($26.2 total) or donate any flat amount. All contributions are tax deductible and will be acknowledged as such in a letter to you from Team for Kids.
Most importantly, all contributions will go toward helping kids lead healthier, more productive lives. The New York Road Runner youth services programs teach goal-setting, nutrition, fitness and running skills. Knowing how to make physical fitness a habit can reduce the risk of diabetes, obesity, heart disease, and other costly diseases in this population.
Thanks in advance if you would consider helping me -- and thousands of schoolchildren. As a father of three boys who has raised his sons in athletics and is ACTUALLY GETTING TRAINING TIPS FROM THEM (!), I am so, so, so proud to be able to help them and to give YOU this opportunity to help them. It is going to feel TWICE as good to cross the finish line at Central Park after running through five boroughs that Sunday morning on NBC, a few days after I return from working the World Series for MLB. You can help make this happen. I am required to raise $2,500 by the November 4 marathon, and half of that total by late July.
Again, the donation form is right here. If you are kind enough to donate any amount to this cause, please note that you will need my race entry number (94714) and last name (Newman) to do so.
For anyone wishing to donate via regular mail, please make checks payable in US dollars to: New York Road Runners Foundation. The mailing address for that is:
NYRR Foundation Team for Kids
845 Third Avenue, 11th floor
New York, NY 10022
I also have a PDF file of a Donation Card for anyone desiring that, and could send that via email. But the online donation form is definitely preferable.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Your friend,
Mark
Today the application was launched for the 2007 ING New York City Marathon. First step toward 26.2 miles...
