Running with Little T: Marathon #1: New York City Marathon 1992

My journey of marathons began on November 1st, 1992 at the New York City Marathon. It was the year race director Fred Lebow, diagnosed with brain cancer, ran the marathon with 9 nine time race winner Grete Waitz, making headline news at the time. Fred Lebow died two years later.

At that time the New York City marathon was the largest in the country, with the race participant count around 28,000. It was the only marathon with a lottery in place for entry. Besides the Boston Marathon, it was considered the holy grail of running, with the difference being that Boston was a qualifying race and New York City wasn't. (The same is true today, although New York City has added qualifying entries). Each year the Dallas newspaper would run an article on the local runners who were heading to New York City for the marathon, and afterwards you'd see some of the local runners wearing marathon T shirts or jackets.

Back in the late eighties / early ninetys the idea of running a marathon was perceived differently than today. They were still seen as ominous events. The marathoners of our community were of the minority, and they were all faster runners. In fact, back then even half marathons were uncommon. At that time Dallas had one annual half marathon held by the local running club CCCD, which is now the Dallas Running Club. The White Rock marathon didn't have a half marathon option back then, nor did Ft.Worth's local marathon, The Cowtown Marathon. But I saw the tides start to change, as more and more runners started gravitating towards longer distances and coming back with marathon T shirts and those highly coveted mylar jackets. They looked like they were fashioned out of paper, and today people use them as throw-aways, but back then they were considered cool.

Eventually, after a few half marathons under my belt I thought maybe I could run a marathon, but the idea scared me. I could visualize running the White Rock marathon because it was familiar territory, so that was the marathon I chose as my first. I could sleep in my own bed, the race size would be manageable, and I even knew the people working the race. I bought Jeff Galloway's book on marathon running, which is not to be confused with his run-walk-run program of today, and followed his program to the letter. The issues I had with following his program were the amount of long runs and that the last long run was 26 miles, leaving me peaked and ready to run a marathon a whole month early! It was at this point that a friend of mine asked me if I wanted to take her place in the NYC marathon because she had to back out at the last minute. I still had a month of training ahead of me for White Rock, but I felt like I was ready to run a marathon right then and there, so I said yes! Looking back, I can't recall all the thought processes that led me to that decision, but I am pretty sure there was some peer pressure involved--there were six other girls going and we were all single.

So, here I was, flying off to NYC to run my first marathon, which was exciting! All of the others had ran marathons before and they were pretty calm about the whole affair, which helped! I was petrified at the race expo because I had to pick up someone else's race number as my own! The other girls laughed and called me "Debbie", but I was not amused. Luckily, back then it wasn't an issue, but to this day I am ashamed to admit that I ran my first marathon using someone else's number, so in reality the fact that I ran it can never be verified. Still, I have the race booklet, and I do have Debbie's finishing time highlighted. ;) It was Halloween the night before the marathon, so we went down to Greenwich Village to watch the parade, as opposed to resting up in our rooms. It's not like we could sleep anyhow! Even so, before we knew it, it was time to make the early morning trek over to Staten Island for the race start. I don't remember how many hours we sat out there in the grass, all bundled up, waiting for the race to begin. I only remember that it was NOT FUN. I think they have moved the starting time of the race up to where people have to wait less, but I am not sure how long the wait is. I was just thankful that it wasn't raining, because there was no shelter from the elements out there except for those who managed to get to the tents quickly enough to grab spots under there.

Finally, as the masses started moving towards the starting area and the media helicopter was hovering above us I started to panic and cry a little. I grabbed my friend Suzanne's arm and said, "I'm scared!" She just laughed--she had watched me wrap, unwrap, then re-warp my "injured" shin, pin a $20 bill to the inside of my shorts, and basically fret over everything incessantly."We'll run together. It will be ok. You can do this!"

Anyhow, like I said, I was overwhelmed. To this day I find big city marathons stressful, so I can see why the entire pre-race madness left me unhinged at the start. But all of that changed once the race started! Suddenly all the magic of running the New York City marathon came to life, and it was nothing short of incredible. My life of marathons began right then and there as I crossed the Verrazano-narrows bridge into Brooklyn.

It's funny to think back to that day and realize that I had no Garmin, no chip for timing, and no gels or sports beans or anything of that sort. No mp-3 player, and no cell phone. Just a watch! I don't have any recorded splits. I only know that my (or Debbie's) official time was just under 4 hours and 30 minutes, but I do remember that it took us 11 minutes to cross the starting line. I have no recollection of our pace being anything crazy. I do know that when Suzanne stopped to use the bathroom at a McDonald's that I actually jogged in place, waiting for her. (Back then I was afraid to stop running for fear of not being able to start up again--how idiotic). What's amazing to me is how little the course has changed over the years. It still runs through all 5 buroughs, finishing in Central Park. I still remember a lot of it. I remember how eerily quiet it was when we ran through the Hasidic Jewish enclave of Willaimsburg, as opposed to the overly interactive spectators of Harlem--some of which were actually yelling out insults. I hope that has changed since then!
I remember how annoyingly crowded the bridges were, particularly because they were steel, with narrow strips of carpeting for us to run on. I hope that has changed also, because that was NOT FUN.
The highlight of the marathon is this: You are coming off the Queensboro bridge at around mile 16, when your legs are starting to really hate you, and you've been on this bridge for about a mile with no spectators, and as you round the corner onto First avenue it opens up to a deafening roar! People are yelling from balconies on both sides of the street, and the street itself is lined with spectators. So loud and crazy!

Suzanne and I stayed together until we hit Central Park, where she felt energized and I was finally confident that I was going to finish (it only took 21 miles). I remember Central Park being so pretty, with the autumn colors, but I also remember it being very hilly! I was experiencing what I now call the "time warp", where the last few miles seem to take an eternity. At times I wasn't sure what mile I was on and that bothered me (now I know this is normal, ha ha). Then suddenly I am there! Crossing the finish line was one of the happiest moments of my life, and that is still true today--it just never gets old! It felt like I was moving in slow motion as they put the medal around my neck. I slowly stared at it in disbelief. I had a hard time believing it was real. They tried to give me a mylar blanket, but like an IDIOT I didn't take it. ALWAYS TAKE THE BLANKET. Then they moved me into the "chute from hell", where I had to inch along for what seemed like miles, with no way of escaping! (It is still done like this today, which is NOT FUN). By the time I got to the end of the chute and dumped into the reunion area I was shivering. I couldn't find any of the other girls, so I proceeded to find my way out of the park, but I could barely move, due to the shivering. I wandered into a medical tent, where they covered me up in a real blanket and gave me something hot to drink--and donuts! I was living the life of a king in there, but saw the really needy start piling in, so I decided to venture out and make my way to our hotel.

Later that night I insisted on wearing my medal out. Amy Keene poked fun at me for wanting to wear it, which is funny because a few days later, on a train to Pennsylvania, she had tucked her medal into a pair of boots in her suitcase, and someone stole those boots. She said the first person she thought of was me when she realized her medal was gone!

In summary, it was a great first marathon, but I would not suggest a big marathon such as this as your first. I went to Central Park this past winter for the first time since the marathon and I still get chills thinking about that finish. There's a statue of Fred Lebow in the park now. I ran by it, and thanked him for the great memories.