How I ran the New York City Marathon

I am not even sure at what point this idea entered my mind, but as many times in my life, it all started as an idea. More than a year later, I am sitting at the JFK airport about to board the plane back to Amsterdam as a guy who did it. I ran 26 miles and 385 yards. My time was surprisingly slow (04:51:45) but it doesn’t take away from the fact that I completed the marathon. I have to admit that I was hoping for 04:15:00 at the best and 04:30:00 seemed like a sure deal but the five bridges and the inclined avenues took its toll on my legs and speed.

Thinking back about how it all started, I recall how we moved to Amsterdam, the Netherlands in May, 2006. We lived right next to the amazing Vondelpark, which was filled with runners of all speeds, sizes and styles. I recalled my running period as a teenager, when my friend Roman Svetlik and I used to run from our hometown to the nearby village of Limbach. At times we ran in the winter, focusing more on not breaking a leg than anything else. Somehow, I went out and started running in Vondelpark. The “big” lap is 3.30 km long and it took a while to be able to run it comfortably. Then we got to know Francois Theron. Frank was a long time avid runner from South Africa whose wife was an expat working with Nike. He ran 30-40 marathons (or as he puts it, more than he cares to remember), 10x the Two Oceans race (56km) around Cape Town, 3x Comrades (89 km) and a couple of full-length triathlons. Knowing someone in person who has achieved these things really opened my eyes to the fact that everything is possible. Later on, the idea was fine-tuned and I realized that the only things we do not achieve in our lives are the ones we stop ourselves from doing. Running with Frank was fun because his pace was just a tad faster than mine. Enter Micha Scheffer, a young Dutchman, whose optimism and easy approach to life were complemented by lightning fast short distance bursts. He made me realize that I run at a very slow pace. Not that I wanted to do anything about it, but now I know. In 2009, we took a trip to Tanzania where we met Jeffrey Oonk, another Dutchman, who worked as a safari camp manager with his wife. As we sat around dinner one night, I brought up the fact that I knew Francois, a guy who ran insane distances. In his typically humble way, Jeffrey admitted that he also loves running, but he prefers ultra distance running. Not sure what that meant, I asked him to elaborate and that is when he admitted to have run the Spartathlon in Greece, which is one of the longest races on this planet at 246 km. He actually ran it twice, but he gave up once after 190 km due to diarrhea (what a loser?) . I have heard all kinds of extreme achievements but knowing the person somehow made it more … real!

Somewhere, during those years in Amsterdam, the idea to run a marathon began growing in my mind and knowing Francois and Jeffrey made it feel doable. We left the Netherlands in August 2009 to travel the world. Along the way, things worked out so that on Feb 15th 2010 we moved back. At that point, I knew I would like to run a full marathon and I also knew that if I would do it, it would be the NYC marathon. There are many marathons all over the world, but NYC somehow seemed special. Ever since we visited NYC, I fell in love with Central Park and the idea of finishing a full-length marathon there. In Slovakia, I only knew a handful of people who run a marathon. But in the Netherlands, the numbers grew exponentially. The Dutch are a very athletic nation and it has two implications. One drives me to run because everyone else is active, the other one is that running a marathon does not earn me a “unique” status. Either way, to run the marathon has become a personal challenge.

I wanted to start running right away in Feb 2010, but after a few runs in Vondelpark, my hips began hurting to the point where walking felt uncomfortable. I pushed through for about three weeks, thinking the long pause of our world travel robbed me of my physical condition, but when the symptoms persisted, I stopped. I began seeing a physical therapist who inflicted a painful deep tissue massage twice a week for 6 weeks with little effect. Then Katka, my wife, went back to our old physical therapist, Claudi Van Doorn in Bussum for some back treatment. She mentioned my “ordeal” to him and he just said “It’s in his upper back, have Jan come with you next time.” When she came home and told me what Claudi said, I could not believe my ears. My hips hurt for over two months at that point this guy says it is in my upper back? Is he deaf? I went to see him the following week, he cracked my upper back and then said, “Good, done. Now you can go home and start training for the marathon.” I was puzzled, because my hips still hurt, but Claudi just gave me his compassionate look and restated that I am ready to start training. Not even a week later I clocked almost four 6.60 km runs in Vondelpark with decreasing pain in my hips. Amazing. My running style resembles a “worm”, as my wife says, which exhibits itself in an exaggerated upper body movement resulting in compensation through hips. When saw it on film, I understood what she meant. My running resembled a worm on a hook or a very lousy twist dancer.

The time to sign up for the marathon was in early March. A colleague of mine, Sebastian Richards, ran the NYC (in 04:01:20) a few years back and he was a great source of information, details, and tips. I tried to enter via the official lottery (to enter one has to sign up and pay an $11 fee) but I got rejected. The day I learned I didn’t get in, I looked up the international partners in the Netherlands and contacted one of them. They offered a full package including the entry fee, flights and accommodation but in a typical Dutch way, they were ripping its clients blind. The entry fee for me was €410,- and the rest (5 nights + flight) for the two of us was supposed to cost a further €3800,-. Insane. I booked the entrance through them and for the rest turned to the trusted Expedia . Our total for 5 nights, direct flights with KLM and the entry fee was around €2000,-. We had stayed at the Hotel Excelsior on 81st Street, just a 2 min walk from Central Park before and loved the location and proximity to the park. The Holiday Inn chosen by Krooder Sports was stuck on a side street about 4 blocks from the Columbus Circle.

Time passed by and in July I started clocking more and more kilometers. I was comfortable with 3 laps in Vondelpark which equaled to 10 km. I also signed up for the Dam to Dam race in September. It is only a 10 mile (16 km) long run from the main square in Amsterdam to the main square in Zaandam, but it’s one of the most popular ones in the Netherlands. I got advice on how to run and train from Francois, Jeffrey, Claudi and Sebastian and basically turned to a 3 times per week routine. I mostly ran 10 km, 15 km and then a longer run on weekends, which progressed from 18 km to 30 km over time. I had many amazing supporters who helped me go out and run. Among them were my parents who visited me in Amsterdam, my beloved wife and our friends: Heno, Bobo, Tomas, Miska, Momo, Lango, Ruben, Sebas and Micha. Especially the long runs were painful for them because my pace was around 10-11 km/hr max and sitting on a bike for 2 hours at those speeds makes one’s ass go numb many times over. But none of them complained. They all tagged along. Special thanks go to Katka, the center of my universe, who came along on most of the long runs, brought refreshments and even pushed me during the first 25 km run in England. As time passed, I got fairly comfortable with distances between 12 – 18 km. During my parents visit in August, I went for a run in Vondelpark, to do a quicker 10 km. They biked along when a complete stranger pulled up next to me and asked me if I would mind if he joined me. It was a young guy who also trained for the Dam to Dam. His pace was rather brisk but as I was in my 6th km and he just started it was understandable. It was during this run that I managed to run 10 km at 50 min. Thanks to this stranger, I realized that I can run faster than I thought. From then on, I focused on making one of the runs per week a faster paced one. Having Micha along for them was nice. On top of that, I was using the Nike+ chip in my shoes and later on the Nike+ GPS app on the iPhone. Both of these apps kept track of my runs and simplified uploading to the nikerunnig.com where I joined some challenges with my colleagues Floris and Jens. The apps were not perfect, so at times a part of the run was missing or the pace was off but overall they worked fine. Above all, I knew that whether the run got recorded or not, I did it.

I ran the Dam to Dam on Sept 19th 2010 with my colleague and friend Micha Scheffer and I reached my desired time of 01:20:02 for the 10 miles. It was my first race experience as an adult and it felt good. It also helped me mentally to prepare a bit how the race day goes. As weeks passed my weekly routine began to suffer from the bad weather. A few weeks in a row the weather in the Netherlands put on a show which one living outside cannot imagine. In a span of 12 hrs it would be sunny, windy, it would rain – horizontally, foggy, cloudy, blue sky, etc. All of these “modes” took 15 min cycles. It was just too easy not to go and run. The energy and guilt were building up so when I finally went for a run it felt great. As most of my runs, the first few kilometers are consumed by mind cleaning. Thoughts run through my head, stress swings back and forth, and anger takes some time to clear. But one thing always shows up eventually … a clear mind. Once I run long and far enough to get physically tired, all those problems and thoughts just stay somewhere on the tarmac behind me. And that is the beauty of running and most likely any physical exercise. When we traveled the world, I learned that one can live life in such a way that no “bad energy” accumulates during the day so one does not have to “go clear the head”. But living the normal “office rat” life tends to generate frustration so knowing there is a way to get rid of it is very helpful.

A month before the marathon I went for the last kitesurfing session of the season with our dear friend Sander Lenten but the cold water took its toll on my knees. They swelled up and felt puffy for the next ten days. I guess my 36 year old body is not so tough anymore. Another observation was that the running slowly began “chipping” away some added weight which I had put on during our travel. I finally left the ugly 96 kg behind and eventually started seeing the 93 and 92 kg on the scale. Had I not been the chocoholic that I am and had my colleague Jens not provided tons of chocolate in samples on a daily basis, I might have lost as much as 8 kg. But being myself, I only dropped 3-4 kg. At least I had fun doing it.

Two weeks before the marathon, I went for my last longer run. It was a beautiful evening run, greatly paced. I ran from our place near Vondelpark to Oudekerk aan de Amstel and back (some 18 km). Ruben, my colleague, joined me for the last few kilometers and all felt great. The second I reached our street and stopped running, a sharp pain shot through my right knee. At first I did not pay much attention to it, but after three days I began worrying. Jeffrey confirmed that all runners have “mental pains” showing up a few days before a race and I decided to believe him. The pain eventually subsided and a week before the marathon, during our visit to Jeffrey and Marleen, I joined him for a beautiful 12 km run through the autumn colored woods. I ran with a guy who pushed himself for 246 km and almost 27 hrs of running! It still blows my mind. He reminded me that I am ready and that I have trained for it. He also suggested I only drink Gatorade and other sports drinks during the marathon, to keep hydrated. Water is ok for a short distance run, but an ordeal like a marathon requires proper hydration and energy level. Based on an experience from my longest run during the training (30 km) I knew that fruit is not enough. I had a few peaches and later on some blueberries and water which Katka brought along, but the energy boosts were short-lived. They only lasted for 3-7 min and then the sugar (or fructose) was gone again. Katka bought the energy gels for me after Sebastian and Claudi both recommended I try them and make sure I can hold them down. Their effect was smoother and longer lasting. Another big learning experience from the above was the way the human body deals with a food-energy-exercise interaction and how we, as lazy developed nations individuals no longer understand these links. After running for about an hour at a moderate pace, I tend to burn most of the sugars (energy readily available) in my bloodstream and muscles. That is when within a short time (2-5 min) the pain increases, the mental balance drops, the will to run evaporates. Having an apple, peach, banana or honey almost instantly reintroduces some form of sugar into the stream again and all is well for a while. Only on the long runs did I come to realize how much of an energy boost does fruit have. Extending that knowledge to the every day sedentary lifestyles I am amazed how our bodies deal with all the extra energy we receive and never burn. If I was my body, I would kick myself for all the sweets I eat!

Tuesday afternoon, Katka & I had an appointment with Claudi, our physical therapist and friend, who confused the session with interrogation techniques and squeezed my thighs like never before. I would have given up any information if only I knew what he wanted to know. His last words were “Start slow and keep the pace down, you will need the energy later”. The day before we flew to NYC, Francois had a stopover on his way from the Athens’s marathon (2500th anniversary of the original run in ancient history) in Amsterdam and he spent the night at our place. It was great to get all the latest advice before we left, but somehow the stress levels kept rising. Still, talking to someone who ran all those races again nailed down the fact that it IS possible.

Thursday afternoon (Nov 4th, on my parents’ 37th wedding anniversary) we boarded the KLM flight to the Big Apple. It is a strange coincidence that New York is called the Big Apple because as an Apple freak I always visit the Apple store on 5th Avenue, to which I also like to refer to as the mother ship. I am pretty sure the origin of NY’s nickname is derived from something else though. We took the yellow cab from JFK airport and one hour later and $50 lighter stepped out in front of our hotel on 81st Street. We got a great room on the 16th floor, overlooking the Museum of Natural History and part of Central Park. I guess the only better view would be from the Plaza Hotel but we were not going to spend that money on a hotel any time soon. The last 4 days before the marathon, I slowly turned into a nervous stressed wreck.

Not sure what was the cause of it all was, but I found it hard to hold my cool. I was extremely short-tempered, very emotional, stressed and snappy. Poor Katka had to endure the whole ordeal with me. The only plausible explanation is that I never ran the full 42.2 km and I feared that I would not finish. On top of that my right knee hurt as we shopped on Fri and Sat. All of that rendered me almost petrified at times. On Fri morning we went to the NYC marathon Expo, where I got my race number and a few other things. We bought a cap and running shoes for Katka and then continued with the rest of our shopping. Strangely, this time I found it very hard to enjoy NY and I barely used my cameras to take pictures. We had a breakfast in EJ’s luncheonette which seems to be turning into a tradition for us. Big fat pancakes, bacon, syrup and french toast, a calorie loaded breakfast.

Due to the daylight savings time change and a bug in the iPhone’s alarm clock we set so many alarms it wasn’t even funny. My sleep was light and when the time came to wake up at 04:30 I bolted out of the bed. The night before I had everything ready. I put on the clothes, checked the Camelbak, kissed Katka goodbye and left. I had to board a bus in front of the Holiday Inn in Midtown Manhattan which was about 25 min walk. Luck had it that on my ride down in the elevator two people joined and one of them had a sister who was a cab driver. She was taking her to the ferry terminal, so they gave me a ride. It helped tremendously. The lobby of The Holiday Inn was filling up with Japanese and Dutch marathoners. We boarded the bus and began our journey through New York City to Staten Island. The weather forecast promised 8-10 C and sunshine, which is an almost perfect weather for running. In retrospect, seeing the strong winds, snow, rain and hail today, I cannot be grateful enough for the weather on the race day. When we arrived and climbed off the bus we all joined a steady river of runners heading to the respective areas based on the color of their race number (or BIB as they referred to it). I grabbed a hot chocolate, bagel, two chocolate power bars and tried to stay away from the wind. It was 06:30 and I was scheduled to run at 10:10. As the sun peeked over the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, I walked up towards the UPS trucks and found a spot where I could sit on a curb and have the sun warm me. If it wasn’t for the occasional gust of wind, the weather would have been perfect. But for now, my teeth shivered so badly I was afraid I was going to lose my fillings.

Thanks to many of my friends who had run marathons before, I wore old jeans and a hoodie which I took off just as my starting corral opened and chucked it all in a donation bag. This way the clothes kept me warmer untill the last possible moment and then were, hopefully, used for charity. I slowly made my way to the starting corral with thousands of other runners. After some 10 min of waiting, we heard the massive gun go off and everyone cheered. Wave one just started. It also meant we still had at least 30 min to go. Choppers were flying above our heads and the closer they got the more people cheered and waved. I was surrounded by Italians, Austrians, French and any other nation one can imagine. Finally the raised STOP signs flipped to WALK and we made our way to the base of the bridge. Before I knew it, the gun went of twice and Frankie started singing New York, New York. I quickly set the Nike GPS app on and began running at a slow pace up the bridge. The sight was out of this world. There were literally thousands of people ahead of me at the summit of the bridge and looking back I felt like I was being chased by my whole hometown. I just remember that half way through the bridge the app sounded “1 km completed, current pace 06:15 per km” in my ear and I thought to myself “41.2 km to go”. Coming down from the bridge I had to pay attention to where I stepped as people tossed all excess clothing where they wanted to and it would be a nightmare to wipe out right at the start. As I made it off the ramp I saw about 10 runners taking a leak against a highway barrier. A quick bladder check and I joined them.

Then it was off through the slowly climbing streets of Brooklyn. People lined up along the course and screamed at the top of their lungs. I appreciated the American enthusiasm a lot. There is a detailed map of the course here, elevation map here and a mile by mile narrative here so I will not be noting all of the details. Early on I realized that almost everyone runs for a cause. Hundreds of people ran for all kinds of cancer. For many others, the marathon was a way to commemorate their lost loved ones. I ran for my Katka’s back to be better. She was so sweet that she secretly “stole” one of my running shirts, and had my name printed on the front together with heart shaped Slovak flag and on the back it said “I run for my wife’s back”. So thoughtful.

Since I ran in that shirt with a jumper on top of it, bolted down with a Camelbak, no one got to see it until Central Park where I changed but it mattered to me that Katka had it made. Just before I began running I got a text message from Katka that she will be waiting for me on mile 8 on the right hand side. It did not take long and suddenly I was there. Thousands of people were lining up the streets and the crowd was 3 rows deep. Suddenly I heard her scream “Babooooo ideeees”. I waved and motioned to her to run along. I made my way to the side, gave her the hat and the glows, a quick hug and kiss and we agreed to see each other around km (or mile? … we were not very clear) 15.

As I ran through Brooklyn, I passed a section where about 15 people in blue shirts were high-fiving all runners. Bands played along the way but above all the crowd was going mental. If I ever do this again, I MUST have my name and country visible some place, because these people screamed anything they could read and the energy it transferred was insane. Later on, as I battled my way through the never-ending 1st Avenue in Manhattan a guy leaned over the railing and screamed at the top of his lungs “You go 197, you go my boy! You are looking gooooooood”. My number was 35-197 and for that brief moment we looked into each other’s eyes and we connected. This guy took the extra effort to be there and cheer me on even though I had no easy name or country visible as all the others. An amazing experience. I will most likely never see him again but for that kilometer he made a huge difference.

Running through Brooklyn around Williamsburg bridge, we passed a Jewish neighborhood. This was the most quiet section of the whole race. The Jewish people didn’t really cheer, they barely watched. As I passed under the bridge suddenly all things and buildings looked very familiar. When we stopped in NYC in 2008 on our way to Florida, we stayed with a friend of ours, Andrea Vidali, whom we knew from a windsurfing race (HIHO 2005). I literally passed his house by 30 m but I didn’t see him in the crowd. Still, I kept looking. By now, I had long passed 15 km and didn’t see Katka, so I kept on running and hoping to see her at mile 15.

As I made it to the mile 15 in Queens and left the half way point way behind, the bridges and the ups and downs of the streets started registering with my legs. In retrospect, I managed to run almost 8 times 21km in my training but I ran 25 km and 30 km only once. This is where I see the reason of my slow total time. Based on the results, I passed half way point at 02:09:27. Some say, that if one multiplies that by two and adds 10 min, that is close to the finishing time for the full marathon. Not for me. Climbing over the Queensboro Bridge, my legs became heavy and the climb took forever. Many people were walking at this point and I joked with one lady that they must be extending the incline in front of us, as there is no end in sight. One great thing about my preparation was that I saved time by not stopping for drinks as I took small sips from my Camelbak and I also tried to eat the energy gels every 5 to 7 km, starting on km 8. As a result of this “feeding strategy”, my struggle was with pain and not thirst or hunger. I also felt like I had enough energy, but my legs were slowly but surely turning into petrified blocks.

Coming down from the bridge and entering the 1st Avenue in Manhattan was epic. The street is insanely wide and “out of this world bloody” long. I saw thousands of runners ahead of me at the “summit” and when I finally reached it, I saw them in the valley of the very same street again. At this point I began to focus on shuffling my feet and I think my “worm style running” turned into a grotesque break dance. I kept to the right, hoping to see Katka. Knowing NYC was working against me at this point because I understood the numbering system of the streets and avenues and I remembered the map with the loooooong stretch through the 1st Avenue. Somehow I made it to 30 km mark where a black rapper kept screaming “30, yeah 30, you made it to the 30 … ” Somewhere there I refilled my Camelbak with Gatorade and also grabbed a chocolate flavored energy gel. At this point, I began to hate the sweet taste of the gels and the drink. Next “pit stop” I decided to have some water.

As I made it to the end of 1st Ave and saw the bloody bridge to Bronx, I chose to walk for the first time. My hamstrings were killing me, my thighs turned into rocks and my left knee felt a bit “funny”. As I made it to the top I stretched on the side a bit and then recalled Sebastian’s advice and the firm look on his face when he delivered it: “No matter what you do, DO NOT walk. If you want to finish, you must keep running!”. So I pulled myself together and began wiggling again. As I ran down into the Bronx, feeling down from not seeing Katka on the long bloody 1st Ave, suddenly I saw a huge screen showing all runners as they passed. I made my best effort to wave and attempted to jump but at that point my legs didn’t cooperate. Having heard and read that one should avoid running with an iPod to fully take in the experience, I head my earphones in, but only to get the pace and kilometer readings. Otherwise, I listened to the crowds. Music can mess my pace up but when the right song comes along it lights the rocket behind my ass and I GO! Cutting a corner in the Bronx, Run DMC & Aerosmith’s Walk This Way blasted from the speakers and for 1 full minute my legs ran. The energy of the music washed away all the pain and stiffness and I ran like Forest Gump. I saw a lady holding a sign “You passed the wall, no walls beyond this point”. Emotions took over and I felt like crying. I was crossing the bridge from Bronx back to Manhattan and I knew I will do this.

I read the course description so I knew the trees in front of me were not the Central Park yet. I remember focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, checking for Katka and not walking. I felt like a snail but I was magically passing the people who walked so I thought to myself “Sebastian must have been right, walking doesn’t make it better and it is still slower than whatever this is!”. At times my mood swung in the opposite extreme and I felt like a fixed marker that everyone passes. Still, I kept going. The thoughts that pulled me through were the “no walking” advises, the realization that no matter how bad the pain seems it is really only temporary and 2 to 3 hrs from now, I will be most likely in the hotel room and done with it. So all I had to do was to keep moving those ridiculous legs. I also thought of all the pain and struggle my wife has been through with her back in her whole life and especially the past 5 months, and I recall telling myself on many occasions that if this pain of mine can in any small way help lessen hers, I will go on.

Then I turned the corner and saw the 5th Ave. All my “support tools” evaporated into thin air as I looked up and saw thousands of runners way ahead of me on this bloody steep street. Who did this? Who raised the bloody street to 8 stories high? Why do I have to climb there? As I slowly pushed through, looked for Katka and tried not to perceive the numbers of the streets (116th … 110th … etc.) I saw a guy with a sign “Pain is temporary, pride is forever!”. Somehow that made sense to me and I kept moving. A girl with Shrek ears looked me in the eyes and screamed “Looking aaaawesome, you are almost there! You will do ittttt!”. I could swear she had to be blind because there was NO way I was looking good. But the merciful lie helped. Again, Francois and Sebas were right, the cheering of the people will get you through.

Then we turned the corned into the Central Park, crowds moved to the left side and I saw the painful wave line of the road. Down and up. As I reached the valley, my shuffling no longer made sense. My Nike GPS app said I had 2 km to go while the official sign barely showed mile 25. Suddenly I got to the top and I began moving again. There she was, my wife, the center of my universe was screaming my name together with some 5 other people. Her eyes said, “I am sorry I didn’t see you earlier, I did my best”, but I was in too much pain and too consumed in my self-pity. From the whole NYC marathon, the most intense negative experience was the disappointment I felt when I realized that while I was getting angry that Katka was nowhere to be found, while I felt like she left me alone, she did her best to figure out through all means possible where I was. All the apps, the text message services failed. The subway was running in a strange schedule and she ran all the way from Columbus Circle to that 25th mile with her barely healed back to cheer me up. All she got in reply was my pissed face and the look which when I saw recorded on her camera hurt the most. I failed to remember that this woman has been with me for almost 15 years through thick and thin and she has never stopped loving me. If there is one thing I want to take away from this marathon, it is to remember and never forget how blessed I am to have her and that she will be the last one to give up on me.

She helped me to take off my jacket, switch the number to the shirt underneath while explaining how terribly things went for her, why she couldn’t meet me and how sorry she was. I gave her the Camelbak and took off like a rocket towards the SE corner of Central Park. My pace was suddenly down to 5:23/km from 08:20/km. People were screaming my name and they high-fived me along the way. I ran out of the Central Park onto the 59th street and I began to pass people. Half way through the Nike GPS app announced that I had finished the goal of running a full marathon. Well, it was almost 1km off but I didn’t care. I stopped it, pulled the iPhone out of the armband and switched the camera on. I shot a bumpy video as I turned the corner on Columbus Circle and then I saw the sign 800m to go. It felt far but I knew I will do it. Last painful incline and I saw the FINISH. I filmed the moment and included myself in the footage to make sure I believe it in the future. I crossed the line and emotions took over. Tears filled up my eyes and I tried to stop them. As I received the medal for finishing and the heat sheet to keep warm, I had to focus on not thinking of the finish because it stirred such strong emotions each time it crossed my mind. I did it! I ran the full-length marathon and I did it in New York City. I started on Staten Island and ran though Brooklyn, Queens, Manhattan, the Bronx and finished in Central Park. No matter how slow, how painful, and how ridiculous … no one will ever take this away from me. The idea rubbed against me from the likes of Francois, Jeffrey and my cousin Lukas Bartak (an orienteering maniac), I followed through, I trained and I completed the full 42.195 km.

My time was 4 hours 51 minutes and 45 seconds. I thought I could easily nail 04:30:00 and I was actually hoping to be able to do 04:15:00. But the lack of LONG runs in the training and the no hills in the Netherlands resulted in the slow second half of the run. Still, I loved it and only 48 hrs after finishing, I am already thinking of training harder for 2011 and breaking 04:00:00. It is a FAR stretch but what is a man without his dreams? Checking the results I realized that there were 21 Slovaks running and I was the slowest of them all I also realized that an 80 year old gent from Brazil did the very same marathon in 04:33:00. There were 11 gents above the age of 80 who finished the race and the oldest one was 87 years old! Two ladies above 80 years old ran and finished the race as well. The power of human spirit, mind and body knows no limits. I found new heroes in these elderly co-runners.

One thing that everyone failed to mention was the grueling “Calvary” from the finish line past the UPS trucks. I had no bag to pick up. The finish was on the 63rd street level in Central Park and our hotel was on 81st. Even after almost 5 hrs of running I could walk the distance. But the snail pace between the UPS trucks was killing me. I really thought the pain would be over when I crossed the finish line, but it lingered around and did not subside. I got a bit dizzy and had to lay down for a while between the bags. The UPS guys called a medic and she kindly hung around until I was good to walk again. I met up with Katka on the steps of the American Museum of Natural History as agreed. We hugged and cried together for a while and then she walked me to the hotel. I texted our parents to let them know I had finished and took a warm bath.

The next day we saw many people walking around Manhattan with their medals proudly presented on their chests. I found the medal presentation unnecessary, since a closer look gave all the first time runners away … at every step. The stride was slow and the pain was shooting from their legs into people’s faces. Yes, that is also part of the marathon experience. The weather turned foul. The wind hit 25 mph with higher gusts between the skyscrapers of Manhattan. The snow, hail and rain didn’t help either. But if anyone wanted to complain they could not have run the day before. The gratitude I felt for the perfect weather on marathon day kept me warm. We finished with some small shopping, a lovely breakfast in Le Pain  Quotidien in the middle of Central Park and caught a Toyota Prius yellow ECO cab to JFK.

It is already 19:00 on Tue evening and we are back in our place in Amsterdam. It’s 5 C outside and there is light drizzle coming from the skies. I am grateful to my parents for having me and raising me the way they did. I am grateful for the mixed personalities they combined and passed on in me. I am grateful for the very same things in Katka, my dear wife. I am also indescribably grateful to all my family members, friends and colleagues who motivated me, thought of me, kept their fingers crossed for me and who flooded me with reminders that they have faith that I can do this. Thank you all. Dakujem – Jano V.

 

PS: As the tradition goes, the New York Times prints the names of all participants who finished the race the day after the marathon. Having your name printed in the NYT is a nice touch after the accomplishment of running a full marathon. We picked up a copy of the NYT, paid the $2,- only to find out that this year the last participant whose name got printed ran at 04:49:57. Had I not stopped to take a few pictures, had I not walked the two uphill parts, had I not stopped to pee, had I not stopped to take off my jacket … my name would be in. … it will be … next time!