2010 NYC Marathon Race Report

11.9.2010 | 2:36 pm

If you’re going to do a marathon, it’s a really good idea to have an idea of why you are doing it. Because otherwise, the misery of the event is simply too much to bear.

For example, are you doing it because you’re really fast and think you can place well in your age group? Or because you want to prove (to yourself or others) you’re capable of going that distance? Or because you just really love to run?

Maybe because you want the t-shirt?

For me, the answer to all of these questions is “no.”

The reason I wanted to do the NYC marathon is because the idea of running through the streets of NYC, along with 40,000+ other people, with screaming crowds lining the streets for (nearly) the entirety of the event, sounded like an experience worth having, even if it hurt a lot.

Oh, and also because the Runner wanted to run it, and I didn’t want her to think I’m a sissy.

A Little Bit About My Pre-Race Training

The 2010 NYC Marathon marks the third marathon I’ve done (note my choice of the word “done,” as opposed to “run”) this year. It also marks the third marathon I’ve done this year without having successfully trained for that marathon. This time, I came to the race with a sore right knee and an aching left hip.

And in short, I was not able to run at all until about a month before the race, and then I worked up to a painful hobbling 14 miles maximum distance.

So what could go wrong?

Hanging Out With Team Fatty NYC

The day before the race, The Runner and I met with LiveStrong’s Colleen Legge and a few members of Team Fatty NYC at Nike Town, for a pre-race breakfast fuel-up. I’ve got to say, I loved talking with others from Team Fatty, especially because most of the other guys had similar aches and pains as mine. There’s no more sympathetic audience in the world than a group of people with matching excuses.

Weirdly, none of the women complained about running injuries. I’m sure that was just coincidence, though.

Then, later that evening, we all got together at a restaurant for dinner to continue our pre-race fueling. Here we are, modeling the Team Fatty NYC tech t’s Pearl Izumi provided for us:

And then the night after the race, we all got together at the LiveStrong party and ate again: post-race recovery fueling, you know.

Don’t you find it peculiar that Team Fatty always eats when we get together?

Nope, me neither.

And you’ll just have to trust me that it was the weird lighting in the room that resulted in everyone looking horribly sunburned in that last photo.

Pre-Race Recon

It’s probably a fair statement that neither The Runner nor I are experts at NYC public transportation. It is probably furthermore another fair statement that both of us have a terrible sense of direction.

So, to compensate, we spent a big chunk of Saturday afternoon trying to figure out what our route to the starting line of the race should be — how we should get to the subway, which subway to get on, which direction we should be going, and where we should get off.

And, I’m happy to say, it took us only about an hour to find the correct station. And a couple of wrong choices for which subway to take.

But by the end of the day, we were confident that we knew how to get to the ferry to Staten Island, in plenty of time for our assigned 5:45 ride.

By the end of that day — the day before the race — The Runner and I had walked eight miles, and my right knee was killing me. As in, stepping up onto a curb hurt.

I had grave concerns about whether I could possibly even walk a marathon the following day.

Getting There

So, fast forward to 5:00AM on Sunday AM. We arrive at the subway station, ready for the R train to pick us up.

Unfortunately for us, we didn’t count on the fact that the R train schedule is a lot less frequent on Sunday at 5:00AM than it is on Saturday afternoons.

And so — along with several other runners — we waited for our train for 45 minutes, meaning that we had missed our ferry before we ever got on our subway.

And I had a feeling the ferry captain wouldn’t hold the boat for us.

As it turned out, though, everything was just fine. We arrived at the ferry just in time for the 6:15 departure. Meaning that we spent 45 minutes in the warm subway station standing and waiting that we would have otherwise spent outside in the cold.

And we still got to the starting area two hours before our wave of the race began.

Waiting There

The Runner and I were slotted to be in the second wave of runners, in the orange group. Which meant that we — along with untold thousands of other runners — had a couple of hours to wait outside until our 10:10 starting time.

And that two hours was an excellent period of time to consider exactly how well The Runner had prepared for this event.

The week before, she had gone to a used clothes store and bought us very warm clothes — heavy track pants, big thick ski coats — for us to wear. She then supplemented all this with heavy gloves, hats, and hand warmers. Look at how attractive we are in our finery:

As a result, we were comfortable and relaxed while others all around us shivered in whatever they could improvise.

Mostly variations of the “wear a trash bag and get into a fetal position” theme.

The Start

Eventually, it was our turn to get into the runners’ corrals. We shed our heavy coats and track pants, stuffing them into bags to be redistributed to people who need them. I’ve got to say, I’m going to miss that coat.

We shuffled off, slowly working our way to the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. Over and over, I kept thinking — and saying, probably to The Runner’s annoyance — the following two thoughts:

1. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that there were so many thousands of people all wanting to run a marathon. Sure, I had known before that there were 40,000 people doing this race, but until you’re actually in the sea of people, the hugeness of that number of people doesn’t really hit home.
2. My knee hurt.

I held my phone up as high as I could, trying to get a picture of this endless sea of people:

Per tradition, Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York” was played on the PA, a cannon fired, and we began.

At that point, the difference between what the race looks like up close and what it looks like from above is really striking. The MTA captured a time-lapse video of the start of the race that really looks incredible:

From our perspective on the other hand, the first couple of miles is all about dodging the coats, hats, blankets and gloves people discard as they warm up.

Getting Into The Running Rhythm

By the four-mile mark, The Runner and I agreed: our hats, gloves, and long-sleeved jerseys were too warm; we were overheating. So we stopped, removed our gloves and hats (leaving them on the side of the road), and tied our long-sleeved jerseys around our waists.

We started running again, only to stop a moment later: with our Clif Shots (our gel of choice) in the jersey pockets, there was way too much bouncing around. So we took the gels out and went back to the run, just holding them. I had three in each hand, figuring I would start sucking one down every three miles, beginning at mile five. My gels would be my countdown mechanism. When I got down to the last gel, I’d be down to the last three miles.

The Runner ran ahead of me, usually about five feet in front, dodging and passing people — the crowd never ever thinned out during the day; there were always people close in front, behind and to the sides of us.

And it was then, at about mile five or six, as I ran behind The Runner, trying (successfully, at that point) to stay with her, that something occurred to me. Something so surprising that I ran to be alongside The Runner and blurted it out:

“My knee. It doesn’t hurt. At all.“

“Seriously?” She answered. “Well, I’d better get as many miles out of you as possible while it feels good, then.”

And — for whatever reason — my knee didn’t hurt for the whole run. Even as the rest of me discombobulated and I began to make whimpering noises, my knee felt fine.

I’m pretty sure I have — at least in part — Pearl Izumi and their awesome running shoes to thank for that.

Before long, we settled into our marathon routine: we would run to each aid station (which happened every mile), then walk through the aid station, drinking a cup of Gatorade.

Sights and Sounds

Honestly, I was feeling good. Around mile ten, The Runner said, “the miles are going by so fast!” And she was right. We were both overwhelmed by the surreal feel of the race — a constant, huge crowd cheering encouragement, a constant, huge crowd running alongside us, a city I have only ever seen choked with cars now filled with runners — that it often felt like we were just being carried along, witnessing something much, much too big to fit in our brains.

By mile fifteen, though, I was cooked. The Runner would get further and further ahead of me — not because she intentionally wanted to drop me, but because it’s just as hard to run below your natural pace as it is to run above it. Each time she slowed for me to catch up, I’d gasp my thanks.

“We’re here to see this together, not race it,” she replied. And besides, while she waited for me to catch up, she had time to take all the pictures I’m posting here today.

I’m a lucky guy to have her.

Musical groups — some rock bands, one gospel choir, one bagpipe band — were all over the place, performing both for the running and standing audiences.

Every mile, I’d look forward to my walking rest at the aid stations. But, as the race went on and more and more people were stopping at each aid station, the number of cups and spilled water / gatorade became comical — there were places where you were more wading than running.

Once bananas were added to this wet mix, things got really messy. And I found out — for the first time in my life — that a banana peel really can be dangerously slippery.

Fans

The night before the race, The Runner and I took a Sharpie and inked our names on the front and back of our running shirts. She wrote “Lisa” on front and back; I wrote “Fatty” on the front and “I am Fatty” on the back. You know, so people wouldn’t think I was calling them fatties.

As a result, throughout the day, people on the sidelines would yell, “Go Lisa! And…Fatty?”

Almost always followed by laughter.

What, you think my name is funny?

Team Fatty Gives Me a Boost

By the time I got to mile 15, I was slowing waaaay down. And by the time I got to mile 18, I started fixating on one thing: early in the morning, Philly Jen — co-captain of Team Fatty Philly (whose recently-biopsied tumor is not malignant — YAY) had texted me, saying that a group of them would be waiting at around 117th to cheer us on.

And there they were. With Reeses Peanut Butter cups and everything.

I was amazed at how re-energized seeing this awesome group of friends made me. I ran on behind The Runner with renewed energy and purpose.

For about another half mile anyway.

To the Finish Line . . .

By the time I hit mile 23, I was completely beat. I was taking much longer — and slower — walking breaks, and feeling embarrassed about how much I was slowing down The Runner, but not really able to do anything about it.

Also, by mile 23, I no longer had an appetite for my final Clif Shot. It remained uneaten.

But by mile 24, I knew we were close, and I put whatever little I had in reserve into trying to finish strong. I was so happy that the race organizers had been so thoughtful as to put in increasingly small landmarks: Final 3/4 mile, final 1/2 mile, 400, 300, 200, 100 yards to go.

The Runner slowed down, let me catch her, then took my hand and raised it high. We crossed the finish line that way, together.

Then we stood in front of a picturesque trailer and had our photo taken together.

4:37. A reasonable time — I guess — for someone who hadn’t been training at all until a month ago. And I’m happy to say that I was faster than both Jared the Subway Guy (5:13) and Al Roker (7:09). So take that, other people famous for being fat.

. . . And Beyond

But once you cross the NYC Marathon finish line, you’ve still got some serious work ahead of you. Namely, to get back to the hotel. And with 40,000 people racing and countless spectators, taxis, cars, and public transportation are all pretty much out.

So we walked back. Two miles. And change. And when you add in our walk to the after-race party and back and our walk to Chipotle’s to get enormous post-race burritos, that’s about 31 miles The Runner and I put into our feet that day.

Now it’s two days later. And getting up or down a set of stairs is still a big production.

Our next marathon? Ogden, this May. Maybe — just maybe — this time I’ll actually be able to train through and run the whole thing. That would be a nice change.

Regardless, though, The Runner has made it clear that this time, she is not waiting for me.

I suppose that’s fair.

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Ride Across America Report from Janeen “Noodle” McCrae

10.18.2010 | 9:32 am

A Note from Fatty: You might have first gotten to know Janeen “Noodle” McCrae on this blog when I featured her 100 Miles of Nowhere video last year. Well, this year, she rode across the United States — helping Team Fatty raise thousands of dollars for LiveStrong along the way.

Noodle is, in short, an inspiration.

So when Noodle sent me a brief ride report along with photographs, I definitely wanted to pass them along. Enjoy!

Just a quick note to let you know that I finished my ride across these great United States on Wednesday (Oct. 13) at around 4.30pm. Hoping you can let peeps know of this news so that I may thank them for their support, followings, and random-showing-up-and-the-side-of-the-road antics. I actually have a lot to say about this trip, but I am currently struggling to pull my thoughts together into any kind of sensical ramble. It will come, just not today.

Here are 3 spur-of-the-head thoughts:

1. America is big. A lot of it is empty. I would like to thank all the stupid song writers in the world (mostly from the 80s) who buried their dumb lyrics deep in my head so that these songs would appear randomly in the silence and torture me for HOURS in these locations. Thanks in particular to Billy “You’ve got a nice white dress and a party on your confirmation” Joel, and Randy Newman for the Three Amigos theme (which I actually didn’t mind too much. I can really hold that note for a long time.)

2. America is beautiful. Even those empty parts. I would like to thank Mother Earth for shifting plates in her china cabinet to push mountains up in frighteningly wonderful messes, and flatten out the land in other parts like linen cloth on a table. There were days when landscape changed dramatically several times. Wow is a word that actually doesn’t sound corny and hollow when you see these things for the first time. People need to get out there and feast their eyes on this stuff, if they haven’t already.

3. America is not full of axe murderers. Go figure?! I experienced moments of great kindness, which has reaffirmed my faith in humanity. For every jerk who yelled “Why don’t you just go kill yerself” out a car window, there were 20 who offered a meal or asked if I needed anything. Cheer up america. You’re not as full of suck as you are lead to believe. I’d like to thank everyone who wasn’t a jerk.

And if you would indulge me this one personal note. I would like to thank you. I could have jumped on my bike and ridden across the USA and that would’ve been that and life would have gone on and whatever whatever so long and goodnight. But Team Fatty and raising money for LIVESTRONG became a key component of this trip for me. To the point where I sucked in some friends at Breakfast NY who made Precious (my bike) a brain and donated that brain and a website to help me raise money – refusing my lame attempts to pay for any of that stuff every time I half-heartedly offered.

Although my fundraising goal wasn’t huge, we reached the initial goal and so I upped the ante. Sure, I will fall short of that ambitious $21,310 goal, but I feel that the awareness my lovely tweeting bike raised for LIVESTRONG has served its own function.

For every email or tweet that I’ve gotten about how I’ve inspired some person to get on their bike or donate to the fight, I think about how it’s really just a knock-on effect from you. Your story was the initial hot coal under my seat to get off my arse and do something.

From you, to me, to … the next in line. I wonder who will inspire us next in this fight?

Ride on, Team Fatty!

Janeen “Noodle” McCrae

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Levi’s GranFondo 2010 Ride Video

10.12.2010 | 9:32 am

Here’s something you may never have considered: wearing a helmetcam for eight hours can get downright heavy on one’s head.

And in fact, I had never considered this fact, either. Until last Saturday, where I rode Levi’s GranFondo, wearing a helmetcam the whole way.

By the end of the ride, though, said helmetcam had weighed heavily enough on my head that it left a very serious bruise and what is quite possibly an abrasion on my forehead. Here, I’ll show you:

I circled it for you (which is to say, the circle is not on my forehead in real life), so you can find it more easily.

I say all of this by way of pointing out that wearing a helmetcam turns a 100-mile bike ride — in perfect weather, with friendly people, on a beautiful course, with unbelievable aid stations, and with terrific company — very very hard work.

But I’m willing to do it. Not for myself, mind you, but for you. Because I love you.

So, here’s my Levi’s GranFondo 2010 ride video.

PS: Congratulations to all the winners in the giveaway I did around Levi’s GranFondo. All winners have been notified by email, and all — except the person who actually won the Trek Top Fuel — have replied.

All I can say is, if I were named William and I lived in Arizona, I’d be checking my inbox (and maybe my spam folder) for an email with the subject line “You, FatCyclist.com, and Levi’s GranFondo.”

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Peas Beah Wid Me; I Hab a Bewwy Bad Cowd

10.11.2010 | 9:57 am

You know how when you have a cold, your brain slows down to the speed of molasses (that’s not fast)? And things that normally wouldn’t annoy you, do? And you just want to lay down and sleep, and then watch some TV? And then maybe sleep some more?

Yeah, that’s how I am right now.

Right around mile 65 or so of Levi’s GranFondo last Saturday, I started feeling a scratchiness in the back of my throat. By the time I was back in the hotel and showered, my eyes were watery and itchhy.

And now I sound like Darth Vader when I breathe.

My point is that right now I wouldn’t be able to do justice to the awesomeness of the Levi’s GranFondo weekend, and I do want to do it justice. So I’d like to ask for your patience for a day. Tomorrow (or Wednesday at the latest if this cold is worse than I think it is) I’ll have a story and a video — yes, I wore the helmetcam for the whole ride.

Meanwhile, here are a couple of pictures from the trip:

This is me leaning against a redwood tree in Armstrong Forest. This is the first time I’d ever seen redwoods in person. I was awestruck at their enormity, not to mention beauty. So, as you can expect, I was quite embarrassed when — after having this photo taken — I accidentally pushed this tree over. I am quite strong.

The Gran La Fonda Handbuilt Bicycle Show — the evening before the ride — was a blast, from seeing beautiful steel handbuilt bikes to gawking at the gargantuan pedal-powered monstrosities to meeting and chatting with the author of Red Kite Prayer.

It was also at the Handbuilt Bicycle Show that Sean of Soulcraft gave me this, my favorite new bumper sticker. Obviously, I will apply it to Kenny’s truck as soon as humanly possible.

I’ve always been of the opinion that every natural setting has its own beauty, but there’s something extraordinary about riding along the coast. The weather was perfect, the course was breathtakingly beautiful, and the support was unbelievably good.

This was — honestly — one of the most enjoyable days I’ve ever had on a road bike.

Details soon. I’m going back to bed now.

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I’m More Than a Little Nervous About “Race Across the Sky 2010″

09.16.2010 | 11:15 am

A “Cool Stuff Coming Next Week” Note from Fatty: For some time, I’ve been thinking that I would like to do a week of posts with the theme “Stuff I Like.” Specifically, each day next week I’m going to talk about some bike-related object that I really love. So watch for that.

Cleverly, one of the things I love is also going to be the central part in one of the most awesome bike giveaway contests I’ve ever done.

It’s like synchronicity. Or maybe it’s synergy. Or maybe both. I’d have to look the words up to know for sure, I guess.

Regardless, I think you may want to look under the sofa, borrow money from your parents, and otherwise scrounge up some cancer-fighting cash.

Cuz this is going to be big. And awesome. And quite possibly awesomely big.

I’m More Than a Little Nervous About Race Across the Sky 2010

In 2009, Citizen Pictures did a documentary of the 2009 Leadville 100 race. It was a fun movie, centered mostly around the Wiens / Armstrong rematch. I saw the movie at the local theatre, and it was a blast — mostly because the theatre was packed with other cyclists, all cheering whenever someone we recognized appeared on the screen.

For 2010, Citizen Pictures came back to Leadville to do the sequel. A few days ago, they uploaded a trailer. Check it out:

After seeing this preview, I knew that I would for sure be seeing this movie when it comes to US theaters November 4. I mean, JHK vs Levi Leipheimer vs Dave Wiens vs Todd Wells vs Ned Overend vs Tinker Juarez. All racing the course I have been on — without fail — for the past fourteen years.

Heck yeah I’m going to see that movie.

And then, after watching the preview about five times (loved the soundtrack by the way, anyone know who that is? [Update: It's Clutch, and the song is "Electric Worry," as clearly indicated at the beginning of the video. Duh.]), I went to the Vimeo page for the video. And there, I saw in the “Tags” section, this:

For those of you who don’t know, my name happens to be Elden Nelson. And since the only other Elden Nelson I know of is the president of the Association of Free Lutheran Congregations and therefore doesn’t have a lot of time to race his mountain bike, I think it’s safe to say that I’m going to be in this movie.

Gulp.

How to Make Me Say Anything, at Great Length

The thing is, I don’t recall any camera crews following me during the 2010 Leadville race (and, unfortunately, there were no crews filming me in 2009, or I’m pretty sure at least one moment would have made the cut). Sure, it’s possible they filmed me but I don’t recall. (The Runner reports that a film crew filmed her — riding with The Daisy mounted on her handlebars — for a big chunk of the final part of the race, so maybe she’ll be in the film?)

So probably they’re going to include some of the footage of the interview they did with me before the race.

Which scares me to death.

You see, like most people, I’m not exactly comfortable when a camera is turned on me. And like some — not all — people, my tendency when nervous is to talk. Fast. And a lot.

About anything that comes into my head, whether it’s relevant or not. Or accurate or not.

And then, later, after I’ve calmed down, I try to remember what it is that I’ve been going on about . . . and I have no idea whatsoever. Just a vague memory of talking and talking and talking and talking and thinking about the fact that I’m talking and can’t seem to shut myself up and wishing that someone — please, anyone — would whack me on the back of the head with a blackjack, thus rendering me unconscious and therefore incapable of further blathering.

In this case, I recall in particular a moment where they ask why I was going to ride a singlespeed. Which caused me, of course, at that precise moment, to completely forget the perfectly good reason I have for riding a singlespeed: it’s fun and I like it. Instead, I went on and on (and on and on and on) about . . . something.

To be honest, I’m caught between hoping they will include that section in the movie — because it might be humiliatingly hilarious to see myself do rapidfire stream-of-concious ranting on the big screen — and sending them an impassioned plea, along with a check for $5000, not to include it. Because, you know, it’s not like I have a ton of credibility in the first place, but I kinda would like to hold on to whatever tiny bit I have.

November 4

I assure you, I have not seen any of this video. Ever. And I don’t expect that Citizen Pictures is going to send me a rough cut or anything for my signoff.

Which means that when I go to see that movie, I’ll be seeing and hearing myself on the big screen for the first time. Unprepared. Vulnerable. And, I expect, very very sweaty.

So — as you may expect — I’m now just a little bit nervous for November 4.

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