The Time of My Life

I thought I was prepared for the start of the New York City Marathon. I asked many questions of Uncle Sandy and Aunt Mary, who had run the race several times, and of my friend Tony, also a NYC Marathon veteran. I read "A Race Like No Other" by Liz Robbins, a book detailing the 2007 NYC Marathon. But on November 1, 2009, at the beginning of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge on Staten Island, when Mary Wittenberg, President and CEO of New York Road Runners and Race Director for this marathon, announced, "New York City is waiting for you!", and the Howitzer cannon blasted, and those opening strains of Frank Sinatra singing "New York, New York" filled the air, I was speechless and couldn't move. Me, running the New York City Marathon? Then everyone around me starting walking, then jogging, then running as they hit the start mat at the base of the bridge. Surrounded by runners from all 50 States and 100 countries, I had no choice but to follow. My feet hit the start mat and there was no looking back. New York City was waiting for me!

The view from the bridge

In 1970 127 runners ran the first NYC Marathon. On the 40th anniversary of the race, 43,475 runners finished the race. And one of them was me.

For a little over 5 hours, I ran through all Staten Island, Brooklyn, Queens (where I was born), the Bronx, and Manhatten. I didn't have my I Pod with me (highly discouraged in a marathon) but I was never bored. 2 million spectators lined the streets, cheering for us, calling out our names (mine was written on my shirt) and providing much needed moral support. Some of the heroes of 9/11, NYC policemen and firemen, were out in full force cheering us, when I felt like we should have been cheering them. 130 bands also lined the streets. Some were official groups, such as the full orchestra with the gold robed chorus in front of a Korean church, and the high school marching band in front of Bishop Loughlin HS playing "Gonna Fly Now", the theme song from the movie "Rocky". Others were unofficial, such as bagpipers on street corners and an elderly Asian woman banging a gong from her fourth floor balcony of her apartment building. Their music kept my energy up and kept me going.

What I didn't expect was that the other runners would keep me running. They were a very diverse bunch of people. 51% of the runners were from other countries, and most of them proudly wore their running shirts proclaiming their home countries. Fred Lebow established this rule at the time he founded the race. A Holocaust survivor, Fred wanted to repair the world as best he could, and being a runner, this was his way - to bring all the world together by running in New York City. I was moved almost to tears when I saw 2 runners in front of me at one point. Both were men, too young to have been living during the Holocaust. One had a tattoo on the back of his leg, a Star of David surrounded by barbed wire with the words "Never Again". The other man, running right next to him, wore a running jersey proclaiming him as a runner from Germany. I wish Fred Lebow were still alive to see his dream come true.

Me (bottom right) and some of my new best friends

Many runners wore costumes, such as the two guys running as the Blues Brothers, two men running as nuns, a guy dressed as a tennis player, complete with tennis whites and a racquet, and even a woman dressed as a suburban mom (more on that later). They were fun to watch. But what inspired me more than anything were athletes who overcame physical handicaps to run this race. I saw a Korean runner who had no arms. Even legs weren't necessary for some people to run 26.2 miles - I saw one runner without a leg, with a running hook for the other leg, and one runner who was missing both legs running on two running hooks. And at one point I heard from behind me "blind runner coming through" (so THIS is why I Pods are discouraged, I figured out) and I watched as a blind man, tethered to his friend, ran past me. If all these people can run a marathon, then all of us can do anything we want, anything we set our minds to. How humbling. It made me want to go out and conquer the world, and believe that I could.

The highlight of the race for me took place in between mile 16 and 17 (after we had just run the Queensboro Bridge, the most grueling of the 5 bridges we ran during the 26.2 miles). I ran right by the Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center. I was running this race as a charity runner with Fred's Team, named for Fred Lebow, who died of cancer years after founding this race. We Fred's Team members raised money for pediatric cancer research at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center. Doctors, nurses, families, and most important, many of the kids who had received or are receiving cancer treatment were right there in front of the hospital, cheering me on as I ran by. Some of the kids, done with their treatments, looked as healthy as could be, others were bald and lying on hospital beds, but all were cheering for me, calling out my name, and making me feel like the biggest rock star in the world. The leader of Fred's Team was in front of them, yelling out, "Cindy, this is for you!"

The last few miles of the race were very tough for me. I had a stress reaction on my groin muscle from overtraining on August 2, and didn't run much at all the rest of August or September. I started up significant running slowly in October but only got 1 long run of 13.1 miles in. Nothing was going to stop me from running this race, but my legs just kind of stopped for a moment and I was worried about finishing. So then, like I've done in other parts of my life that were challenging, I just kept going, knowing I'd eventually see the finish line. When I felt like I couldn't stand up anymore, I saw those trees in Central Park with their brilliant multi colored leaves of red, orange, green, and brown, and I saw the signs: 1 mile to go, 1/2 mile to go, 800 meters, 400 meters, 200 meters, .2 mile, FINISH! Somehow my legs came back to life and I ran fast to the finish line, knowing I did it, I raised $3,550 for pediatric cancer research and I finished this race!

One of the many hundreds of volunteers handed me my medal; another handed me my mylar blanket and yet another handed me a bag of food and drinks. Then I began walking towards the end of the park where I would somehow find my way back to my hotel, even though my legs felt like rubber. And then I saw her: she must have been a runner, because she, too, had a mylar blanket, but she was dressed like a suburban mom. This woman was taking pictures of runners and she looked suspiciously like my college roommate and all around great friend - and then I said, "Kim"? And Kim said "Cindy! Congratulations!" Turns out Kim was trying to find Barb (our other college roommate, who started with her friend Ed in a wave 20 minutes ahead of me) and me, and she figured a good way to find us was to, um, "liberate" a runner's blanket so she could fit in with the runners and find us in the runners area after the race. Kim found us a taxi, which we shared with a husband and wife from Minnesota who had just run the marathon, then found us another taxi when the taxi driver decided to go off duty after he dropped off the first two runners at their hotel. That's Kim; always there when I need her!

And the celebration began. We met up at Carmine's, an old style Italian restaurant with huge portions of delicious Italian food. The ten people at the table were me, Uncle Sandy and Aunt Mary and their daughter (my cousin) Charlene, Uncle Jerry and Aunt Lee, Barb and Ed and Barb's friend Marcie, and Kim. Barb, Ed, and I held court as we regaled everyone with our stories of running in the world's largest marathon. I wish Debbie (childhood friend from NJ) and her husband Chuck could have been there but we had our own adventures with them the night before at our pre-marathon dinner in Little Italy (that evening deserves a blog entry of its own!) I loved every part of that night, sore legs and all: celebrating with family and friends, showing off our medals to everyone in the restaurant, including all of the other runners at other tables, and the feeling of a job well done.

Me with my two college roommates, Barb and Kim, celebrating our race

There are so many people to thank who got me here: my running coach Doug B., Doctor Bruce T., physical therapist Jeremy S., all the people who donated on my behalf to Fred's Team, my friends and family who celebrated with me in NYC, and Larry, always Larry, who sees every challenge as an opportunity to excel and got me here successfully as well as so many other places in my life.

People, mostly other runners, ask me what my time was in this marathon. I tell them my official time of 5:11. Runners who know my history look a little sad, since this is way slower than my time of 4:31 at the Disney World Marathon in January. But each marathon is different, like each experience in life. And my time of 5:11 in the New York City Marathon on Nov. 1, 2009? That was the time of my life.

Why I run

When I cross the starting line on the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge in New York City on November 1, 2009, I will do something unheard of at the time of my birth - run a marathon.

In 1959, women did not run marathons, at least not officially. The farthest race sanctioned by the International Olympic Committee for women was only 200 meters, about twice the length of a football field. Women were not thought to be strong enough to run any further. Men, however, were able to run distances up to and including the 26.2 mile marathon in Olympic competition. By 1960, women were allowed to run the longer distance of 800 meters. 1972 brought the addition of the 1,500 meter race, and in 1983, the 5,000 (5K or 3.1 mile) and 10,000 meter (10K or 6.2 mile) events were added. And it wasn't until 1984 that the women's marathon was finally added to the Olympics. That year Joan Benoit won the first gold medal in the women's marathon. If you told me in 1984 that 23 years laterI would meet Joan Benoit Samuelson and get my picture taken with her at my local running store and then actually run a half marathon with her the next morning, I would have thought you were crazy.

Me with the first woman to win a gold medal in the Olympic Marathon - Joan Benoit Samuelson,
the day before my first long distance race - Space Coast Half Marathon 2007

But life is crazy and has its own twists and turns. When I was growing up, sports were not encouraged for girls. Gym classes were filled with calisthenics and team sports that no one liked or played well. The light blue polyester one piece gym suits with the elastic waists did not add to the allure of physical activity, especially since the boys, taking their gym in a separate class, were allowed to wear their own T shirts and gym shorts. The passage of Title IX, forcing equal spending for boys and girls in school athletics, began a revolution in girls' sports, but by the time the money began trickling down to girls like me, I was already happily ensconced in the world of books, band, student council, drama, and the school newspaper and had no time or interest in sports.

It wasn't until I had kids of my own that I noticed the 180 degree change that had taken place in our country. Girls played sports and played them well. While I sat on the sidelines at my son Daniel's soccer and baseball games, I noticed the girls on the field. Ponytails flying behind them, these Title IX recipients ran and threw or kicked balls as well as the boys, and smiled and laughed while they did so. I looked at my younger daughter Liana, watching with me on the lawn chairs with the other moms and younger siblings, and thought things would be different for her and her friends.

I don't know if my Liana and the girls of her generation take for granted the options they have in sports, but I do know that they now enjoy sports from the preschool level up through equal opportunities in a myriad of sports in college. Health and fitness are givens in their world. I envied them until the one day I decided to join them...

When the kids were finally old enough to be left in the house alone for a while without the fear that they would kill themselves or burn the house down, I came up with the idea of an evening walk with my husband Larry. We started walking that evening, and after a few steps I realized I had to jog a bit to keep up with Larry who was a foot taller than me and a fast walker. As I began to jog, he began to run. I had no choice but to run to try to keep up with him. And so began my introduction to the world of running - for me.

I joined a gym so I could become a stronger runner for my runs with Larry. I ran two miles at the gym the next day and thought I would pass out at the end. My legs hurt for days. But I felt a freedom and a sense of accomplishment in running that I never felt in those junior high and high school gym classes. I kept running.

I found out there were local 5K races, and began entering those races. A whole new world opened up to me. Adults of all ages competed for fun and exercise almost every weekend in races throughout Brevard County, Florida. At these races I made new friends and met really interesting people of all ages who ran for the sheer joy of the sport. The more races I ran, the faster I got. I watched Larry accept awards for placing (1st, 2nd, or 3rd place) in his age group in these races and soon it was also me receiving these awards. Larry and I got our kids to run with us in Clearwater, Florida's Turkey Trot, a race on Thanksgiving morning with 15,000 of our closest friends. This 5K race is now an annual eagerly anticipated tradition for our family.

I ran a 5K race in Titusville, Florida in 2008 with my 20 year old son and my Aunt Mary and Uncle Sandy, who are both in their 80's. It was a blast running with them and hearing Aunt Mary and Uncle Sandy regale us with their race stories over the years. Like me, my aunt and uncle began running in their 40's for fitness, then enjoyed it so much they never stopped. They started running 5K races, then 10ks, then the half marathon, and then many marathons. Always up for a fun family tradition, I decided to try the marathon length race myself.

Doug B., a local running coaching legend for high school athletes, has a marathon training camp for adults in the fall. I knew nothing about training for a marathon, and Doug was the expert, so I just turned my running over to this running camp and did every workout that Doug designed for me. I ran the Space Coast Half Marathon for marathon practice in November 2008 in 2 hours, and saw my time drop by 9 minutes from where it had been at the 2007 Space Coast Half Marathon, before I began training with Doug. On the day of my first marathon, the Disney World Marathon on January 11, 2009, I followed every step Doug had outlined for me and finished those 26.2 miles in 4 hours, 31 minutes, just one minute off my projected time.

Running is now a huge part of my life. I am grumpy if I don't run every day. Vacations are happy times when Larry and I run together, whether it is by the Coliseum in Rome, under the Eiffel Tower in Paris, or through Larry's parents' neighborhood in Westerville, Ohio. I now love to shop in the Running Zone as much as I do in bookstores. Of course, exercise is so much more appealing wearing the latest sleek black spandex running outfit than a light blue polyester elastic waist one piece gym suit...

I will be running the New York City Marathon on November 1, 2009 with Fred's Team at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Hospital to raise money for pediatric cancer research. Check out my website at: https://fredsteam.mskcc.org/fundraising/Controller?action=userHome&user_id=39972&event_id=128