After saying the 2012 ING NYC Marathon would be on, it was called off Friday just before 5:30 p.m. I was surprised that the city and NYRR said it would go on after the destruction from Sandy, but when they did I was prepared to run and redeem myself from last year.
There was a lot of opposition to putting on the race, which I agree with. And this post isn't about whether it should have happened or not (it shouldn't have). Nor is about whether they should have called it off sooner (Which, frankly, I think they should have. I didn't spend as much to travel to this race as tens of thousands of other runners did.)
This is about the death of my dream. Given the loss of life, homes and dreams, my running dream pales in comparison, but it was still my dream.
Last year, I ran what I had hoped would be my last marathon, the 2011 ING NYC Marathon, until my no results result came in. I knew right away I'd have to run it again. I wanted a run that wouldn't have a little asterisk by it -- at least in my head. I wanted a time that showed splits. Since then I worked -- and ran -- with that goal in mind. Getting a sub-5 hour for the NYC marathon and retiring my camelback in favor of half-marathon races and shorter distances.
When I went to packet pick-up I was so happy to see the D-tag. I thought to myself, "Thank God! My time will register!" The only downside was I'd have to be bussed to the start at 6:30am, meaning I'd have to wait in the cold for a couple of hours.
On Friday, I ran around the still-closed Central Park, but could see the work that had gone into setting the race finish up. I foolishly let myself believe the marathon really was going to happen. I'd run this marathon one last time and be happy with whatever time I got and then retire from marathon races.
But by 7:30 p.m. I was on the verge of tears. It was canceled. All this hope and anticipation that had been building since the city and mayor announced the race was on just came crashing down. All the miles logged, the early mornings to run before it got hot or to meet up with the race group, the chaffing i put up with, the mental preparation I had done for the marathon was for nothing. All those times at mile 15 or 16 or 20, where I pushed myself saying 'It'll help on race day' was for a race day that never happened.
I got home, stared at my 2012 bib and race shirt and then put them away.
Sunday morning, what would have been race day, I decided to go for a short run in Central Park. I know, marathoners planned on volunteering on race day, but others planned on running the full 26.2 in the park, a throwback to the early years of the race.
I didn't know what to expect, but I didn't expect to see thousands of runners clogging the drive or the people cheering us on, handing out water and waving signs. It was really moving and it had to be a great motivator for those running the full 26.2. It reminded me what marathon running is about: pushing yourself when others and even you think you can't. They kept me running longer than I had planned. I ran 8, ending at the finish line, or just short of it.
Ultimately, that's what the NYC marathon is turning into for me: a reminder of falling short and something that remains out of reach.
I'm guaranteed entry next year, but I don't know if I'll do it. Maybe I'm not meant to get a good run out the NYC Marathon. Maybe this will always be the marathon in my mind that has an asterisk next to it.
All I know is that -- for this year -- my goal, ambition, dream and hope all rolled up into one day is gone. And it makes me sad.
