RACE REPORT - Nangel Lindberg, nlindberg@attbi.com  

By now you all have read the NY reports, so feel free to skip this one. Someone asked me on Saturday if I had always had this burning desire to run

the NYCM. I said "No. But I've always wanted to run it with Abe." You see,

he and I have had this date since last year, and there was no way I was

going to miss it. This run was not about a marathon: it was about finally

meeting someone I care a lot about, it was about soaking up HIS city, and

about crossing the finish line with him.

The day before the race, I managed to get in on the UN Friendship Run. It

was cold, windy, and the number of French runners was slightly above the

FDA-approved levels... The run was fun, the t-shirt was cool, and the

promised "chaud petit dejeuner" was more than petit and not chaud at

all. The good thing about the 4 mile run was that it convinced me that I

was going to freeze on race day without some running tights and a jacket.

So a visit to Nike Town was on the agenda.

A few hours later, and after some 15 miles of *walking* around Manhattan

(and after a pit stop for pre-marathon martinins and cigarettes!!!), we

made it to Daniel's encounter dinner.

The first thing I saw was the biggest, brightest, and kindest smile, and I

was soon engulfed in the biggest and first of several bear hugs. Did I

mention I love Abe? By the way, nobody looked more stylish than Abe (with

his Run Abe PINK hat) and Millard (with his Harley t-shirt) wearting their

tiaras... We had no race strategy, but we did have a plan: start slow and

then slow down.

How can I summarize the rest of the encounter? How can I tell you all that

Karen is at least as beautiful in person as he is in her posts? She is one

of these people that, at one point or another, makes you thank your lucky

stars for having her around. Ron, Peggy, Lauren, Daniel, Jorge, Kelly,

Harriet, Mel, Kecia, Violet (all so many more of you): It was so great to

finally meet you, or to meet you again.

Race Day: The Penguin tent was as cozy as it could be. And we had to muscle

out some Euro runners that were encrouching on our space. "Pardonez-moi,

mais this is PENGUIN TURF, so MOVE IT!" Sheesh. After the endless wait,

the endless lines for coffee, and the lines to the dinopotties (they were

*really* old) , the start was great: Frank Sinatra and the rest of us

singing NY, NY: If we could make it there, we'd make it anywhere, indeed...

And off we were!

I have no coherent recollection of this race (not that I ever do). A happy

discovery was that Abe and I have the same race strategy: tell EVERY SINGLE

group of firemen that they are our heroes, thank all the volunteers, say hi

to all the police officers, hi-five the little kids, and joke around with

the crowds. And that we did superbly, if I say so myself. Our pace was a

comfortable 9:30-10 mpm, and we walked through every water station, but not

for more than 30 seconds at a time. Things were not going fine: they were

going GREAT. I don't think I stopped smiling the entire way (well, maybe

after mile 20...) as Abe was greeted over and over and over and OVER again

by the city he loves, and which loves him back, as he said hi to every cop

("Howyadoin' Sarge?"), every skinny kid handing us water ("...'Fcourse

we're gonna finish, kid. We're kicking ass and we're taking numbers...!"),

every tough female cop ("Hi Sweetheart, I need a kiss...!"). We stopped to

have our picture taken with several firefighters. And along the way with

Lola. And further along, under some mile markers... Who said this was a

race, anyway? This was about NY. About running in Harlem ("Corre, mami...

co-o-rre..."). About running in the Bronx ("Git, now! You don't wanna stop

here..."). About running with ABE!!

I started feeling the pain of New York with the *&^#!! 59th Street Bridge,

which is hard concrete and a full 1.5 friggin' miles long. My right foot

was hurting because of a blister, and I was steppng weird on it... After

two more bridges Abe assured me that was the last one. It better be, 'cuz

I'm not going up another one. By the time we got to mile 7 I had peeled

off all my shirts and was running with my running bra. And by mile 15 I was

freezing, but sweating (ah, the paradoxes of marathon running...). As we

approached mile 22, the wind was blowing and I was so cold I was having a

hard time going faster, I did not feel particularly tired (see? even with

the pre-race martinis and cigs!) but I was C-O-L-D. The last 300 yards were

the longest I have ever seen. But by now Abe and I were running while

holding hands, asking the soldiers guarding the route if they would mind

terribly swapping legs with us, and we were in HIS park!

The race was over, and I had no idea what my time was (I had stopped the

timer on my watch somewhere at the halfway point), or rather, I did: I had

the best time. Period.

Nangel

(not sore, and ready to do this again, in Boston)

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