NYCM2002 - Marsha Seamans

Race Report

New York City Marathon

Sunday, November 3, 2002

As those of you who have run with me know, I am prone to pre-race anxiety and panic. It’s a good thing we were trapped on Staten Island once we got there! I am usually fine once I start running, and afterwards I can usually distill the experience and the feelings and sort out what I felt, and what I did right and what I did wrong, and whether I did as expected, or better, or worse. With New York, I’m finding that I can’t distill it. I have a series of impressions, a series of “moments” that I want to hold on to. So here are some of those moments: Driving into New York City on Saturday and having Vicki turned into this crazed “city-woman” weaving in and out of traffic, and declaring to the world, “Oh, Yeah! I love New York!” Walking to the Expo shuttle bus through Central Park and seeing the 25 mile marker. And Theresa saying, “No, you cannot go home,” as I am hyperventilating. Arriving at the Convention Center and thinking, “This is not so bad,” just as we got to the corner where we were directed to the line OUTSIDE. The cab ride back to the hotel (and I thought Vicki was a crazed driver!) Walking to Padrone’s for the Penguin dinner and getting a panicky feeling that I have been on my feet way too much for the day before a marathon. Putting together names and faces at the dinner, seeing friends I haven’t seen in a while, and meeting some new folks. Sunday-- RACE DAY: Standing in the bus line and realizing that there was no way everyone will be loaded by 7:00. One weak moment when I said, “Ok, I think I’ll go home now.” Giving in to the excitement and good natured kidding of the people in line and the volunteers moving people along. Sitting in the tent in Fort Wadsworth, trying to stay warm, trying to eat a little, and writing my name on the wrong side of the surgical tape! Standing on the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge and feeling the energy and excitement of the runners, taking in the bright colors, seeing the bridge and the water, and hearing the canon fire. A little pushing and shoving getting across the bridge, scary in that massive crowd. The crowds of spectators in Brooklyn, encouraging, cheering, roaring …. Hearing my name called over and over again with that distinctive New York accent that reminds me of my husband’s New England legacy. The miles ticking away … Running with Paulette, knowing how much it took for her to be here. Coming up on about mile 9, hearing from the side, “Mom! Mom! There she is!” My two sons had come to cheer me on, one from California, one from Maryland. They had told me they were coming but never made any specific plans, so I figured it was about 50/50 that they would be there. And there they were, with hugs and kisses and “You’re awesome, Mom!” The endless Pulaski Bridge where I knew, “Ok, this is where it starts to get hard.” Walk a little, eat some power bar. “Hey, I can still run, and I’m running more than I’m walking. Cool!” My sons appeared again around mile 18 for quick hugs, and “Howya doing, Mom?” “I’m starting to get tired,” I say. “We’ll see you in the Park,” they say, “Go, Mom!” A little girl in Harlem who I heard talking, and with the amazement that only the young have, “They ran all the way from Staten Island?!!! That’s a LONG way!” She was very impressed. Maybe a future NYCM runner? I was impressed that she knew how far away Staten Island was. The man in the Bronx who said, “Run, Marsha, run, there will be no walking in the Bronx.” I was looking for my Dad in New York. He died in March and I have heard his voice and seen his face, and drawn inspiration from him many times since then. I expected at some point to hear him say, “Run, Marsha! You can do this. Keep going. Dig deep!” What I heard at about mile 21 or so was the very quiet voice of my Dad saying, “Marsha, I am proud of you.” Mile 23, in Central Park, there they are again, those kids of mine. I had decided I was walking it in from this point, I was really tired, and it’s cold and dark. But they step out on either side of me and say, “Mind if we run a mile with you?” How can I say no? So we run, they in their heavy coats and boots, with camera dangling. “Hey, Mom, I have a surprise for you,” as he hands me a cell phone and says, “It’s your Mom.” “Hi, Marsha, are you finished?” “No, Mom, I running in Central Park with my sons on either side of me.” “I’m so proud of you, keep going, keep going.” “I love you, Mom.” I did not even feel this mile, and it’s uphill, mind you! I just glided through. Soaking up Central Park the last couple of miles. Crossing the finish line and getting the medal, the tears of accomplishment flowing. My older son said he kept hearing the spectators asking, especially as the day lengthened, “Why do they do this?” His answer was, “They are testing their wills.” That’s part of it for sure. But I am addicted to the feeling of accomplishment when it’s all done. There is a medal at the end. So marathon #6 is done. And it was AWESOME! Thanks for sharing some of my moments. Marsha Lexington, KY