Team Finish Line

Normally when I visit Times Square I point at all of the freaks - like the Naked Cowboy or the guy dressed in the Batman suit. But this past Saturday morning at 5 am, 43 other crazy people and I are about to set out on a run around New York City that will cover over 100 miles, more than 24 hours of continuous running, and every major park in the city.  The race starts off with a great National Anthem rendition by a relative of one of the runners under the bright LED Ford Motors sign with a flag over top, and then the gun goes off.

While we still had 100% energy, we traversed Central Park first.  The only people up and about pre-dawn were runners and bikers aiming to get their workout done before the heat picked up and the kids woke up.  While I often have this goal in mind, today was a completely different story.

We watched the sunrise while running over the Henry Hudson Bridge as we entered the Bronx.  I already missed a few turns on my way to the second park, Van Cortlandt, and wondered how I would navigate this race with sleep deprivation and heat exhaustion later in the day.  We had a lovely run through the park until we hit the gang with the pit bulls and changed course toward the grass over to the left.

Ever since I saw the movie City Island, I have wanted to tour this mysterious place off the Bronx shoreline.  Somehow my professional mentalist running partner, Oz Pearlman (ozpearlman.com), must have gotten it into my head that City Island was part of the race because he and I started running over the bridge and onto the island only to find out 5 miles later that it was not part of the race route. Now I was suddenly committed to a 105 mile race.  Next time you see Oz at an event and he tries to read your mind, think City Island with Nick Jekogian.

Next destination is the Triboro Bridge. The only problem is the road we are running on isn't taking us the right way.  Maybe the guy with the Atlanta Falcons hat can help.  10 minutes later we are way more confused and now definitely headed the wrong way. The police officer ahead must be able to help us find the Triboro Bridge.  But he informs us that pedestrians are not allowed on the bridge.   I guess he doesn't know that we have connections.

We finally find our way through Hunts Point and then onto the Triboro. First stop is Randalls Island and then on to Astoria, Queens.  Wow is that a beautiful and very crowded pool down by the bridge.  It’s amazing the characters that help runners get through an ultra marathon.  At mile 40 there is the young girl handing out oranges and hugs to every runner.  Her positive spirits stays with us for the next 10 hot miles toward Flushing, Queens.   

On our way to Flushing we pass by the hotels across from LaGuardia Airport. I was very impressed at how full the Plaza Hotel (of Queens) looked for a summer weekend.  It was fascinating to see tourists walking around as if they were in Midtown Manhattan.  This is why you can never trust the internet.  "Look hon, we got a room at the Plaza for $89/night".  Too good to be true.

Queens is probably one of the most ethnically diverse areas in the US.  We ran past Indian weddings, Hassidic Jews (after sunset), Asian graduation parties, and Puerto Rican soccer games.  The amount of people I ran past on this 100-mile run was probably greater than the average person sees in a year!

Another stop at an aid station and I experience the nicest man in the world. This guy not only stayed at his station all day long to cheer in the runners but he also provided spray lubricant to the crotch areas of all the male runners to help comfort that extreme chafing we were experiencing.  The split second he applied the spray was one of the happiest moments of the race.

As it starts getting dark I run through Howard Beach (the mob capital of NYC) and then down into the Rockaways.  Now my feet are starting to feel hot due to running in soaking sweaty socks for the past 70 miles.   Time to change my shoes and pop some blisters.  Glad I had a safety pin in my bag.  Should have brought a match to sterilize it.  

As I take a break to change shoes and meet up with my  support running partner, I listen to the rave music coming from a temporary igloo built on the beach.  (I’m pretty sure that was real and not a hallucination).   

At midnight, after running for 19 hours, you know that this is not an individual sport. The only way to get over that finish line at mile 100 is with a great support team.  I probably had one of the craziest mixes of team members and it worked wonders.

First was Aly, my wine loving, new to running friend who was all set to break records while I was set to walk briskly towards the finish.  Next was Kirk, the fitness club guru, who was ready to motivate me to keep going against all the pain, the unbelievable darkness of the Rockaways, and the traffic of the Belt Parkway into Brighton Beach.  Through lots of coordination and texting of map points on the iPhone, we manage to find our way to the next aid station where Alan and Sam are waiting patiently for us. Sam gives me some words of encouragement and attempts to even run a bit while she is on crutches. As much as I would have loved the extra company, I am glad she doesn’t join us so that I don’t have to explain that one of my crew outran me on crutches.

Alan and I proceed through the streets of Brighton Beach.  Boy was it tempting to stop in for a shot of vodka at one of the rocking Russian nightclubs that was open all night. I must have looked like an alien to all the drunk patrons leaving the club.  The Coney Island boardwalk was quite an interesting sight at 4am.  Couples walking hand in hand, teenagers jumping in the water, hookers looking for their next trick, and a lot of people looking at me like I was the weird one.

A few more hours of running (mostly walking at this point) and a chance to watch the sunrise from under the Verrazano Bridge.  I could now count on my fingers the number of miles left to the finish line, that is if I was awake enough to count.  The blisters were so bad on my feet that I was doing the opposite of what every running magazines tells you to do.  I was running on the heels of my feet since it was the only place without blisters.

Henrik joined my run through Brooklyn and most importantly kept me awake during the most difficult hours of the run.  Hats off to Ali.  Brooklyn went swimmingly because she came bearing the gift of Red Bull.  I guzzled it down and kept on walking towards the Freedom Tower which was standing tall just 3 miles away.  In that last 3 miles of Brooklyn we go past more churches and religious establishments of various faiths than probably exist in most US states.

And then I come to the Brooklyn Bridge.  What a sight!  We are almost in the city. After the gruesome climb to the apex, I feel like rolling down the other side.  Alan meets up with us again at the end of the bridge and the Ali/Alan team bring us in for the homestretch.  At this point their main job is to keep me from walking in front of a bus. Not easy job while I am trying to keep the momentum going.

We finally make it to mile 100 after 29 hours (the race was actually 100.2 miles) and we see the biggest supporter of all - my dad.  He has just gotten to the finish line after he parked the car and put away all the supplies that he carted behind me for the past 40 miles. He probably put about 200 miles on his car carrying my support team back and forth between Manhattan and various Borough locations.  He experienced unexpected bridge and tunnel closings and got to see the nightlife of NYC. Just like almost all the other crazy races my brother and I have done over the past 11 years, he was there from beginning to end and never stopped helping.  He is a great inspiration for my brother and I although I am sure that at the finish line we don’t usually have the strength to show our gratitude.  Thanks Dad - for everything!

Ultramarathon, which on the surface sounds like a very individual sport, is not.  It takes a team of family and friends like I had this weekend to get me over the finish line.  It’s interesting to think about all the greatest athletes we know.  We all know their names, but it’s their support crew like mine that really got them over the finish line.

Thanks again to everyone that helped me make it happen. Especially my wife Yael who has been dealing with my insane  training efforts and races for the past 11 years since I started endurance racing.