Short answer: pretty damn cool.

But before I get into that, I want to talk about what I learned about running.

I started training for the marathon in July. It was an eighteen week program from Hal Higdon. I think it was August when I was catching up with some friends. We were having some beers in my friend Ross’s back yard and by “we” I mean “they” because I told everyone that I had to run twelve miles later that day. One of my friends, Neil, had run a couple of marathons and he was talking about how hard they were.

“Well,” I said, “I’ve run three half marathons.”

“Halves are nothing,” he shot back. “I mean, you’re basically going to run a half later today.”

I’ll be honest, it kind of stung. I was proud of those halves. I got medals for those halves! I display those medals in my bedroom!

What I learned from training for a marathon, though, is that Neil is right. Halves are nothing.

I remember the first time I ran more than a half. It was another Sunday in August. I had to run 14 miles.

I should mention that it was hot and really humid that day. I also made a route for myself where I ended at Prospect Park so I had to run up 9th street, which is a long, consistent incline.

Even taking all that into account, it was hell. By the end, I was completely out of gas and running so infuriatingly slow. I knew my body was capable of more but my body said, “Not today, friend.”

That’s when I first though to myself, “Okay, what the hell did I sign up for?”

Here’s what I learned: anything over 13.1 miles is a completely different kind of race.

I ran my halves without eating breakfast. I would only stop for water around mile 10. I felt spent at the end but I was able to run hard as hard as I could all the way to the end.

If I tried not eating or consistently hydrating along the way with anything over 13.1, I would find myself hobbling towards the end, searching like some cartoon explorer in a desert for a water fountain. I’ve definitely said “oh thank God” out loud while coming to a public water fountain.

But, Rob, how was the marathon?

I’m getting to that.

My first real test was the 18 mile marathon training run in Central Park. It was a NYRR sponsored run (New York Road Runners sponsors the marathon and running 9 of their races and volunteering for one is the “9+1” that qualifies you for the marathon the following year). It consisted of three laps of Central Park, which meant 3 times up Harlem Hill. (Harlem Hill is one of the gnarliest inclines in NYC, worse even than the Prospect Park Hill.)

I felt good for the first two laps but the last lap was really tough. Again, I reached that part of the race where my body said, “Look, I know what you think you can do but that’s not what you’re going to do, capiche?”

When I get to this place, it’s not that I’m out of breath and or that my legs are tired. My feet definitely hurt but that’s not it, either. I don’t know if you’d call it the wall or bonking. All I know is that I can’t dig anymore. I’m giving all I can and it’s nowhere near enough.

I hate that feeling.

I ran that 18 miler in 2:35. I did the math and given how my pace was going down down down, with eight more miles to go in the actual marathon, I might not be able to get under 4:00.

Yeah, but Rob, how was the marathon?

I’m getting to that.

My first 20 mile run was on the day of the Bronx 10 miler. My plan was to run that race and then run 10 miles home (or as close to home as that would take me).

The only problem is, I ran the race first and I ran it like someone who was going to be able to stop after 10. So the ten miles after that were a complete nightmare. I had that slogging, spent feeling for pretty much the whole ten, which I ran with my running buddy/mentor Fred down through Central Park and down the West Side Highway to West Fourth Street. Fred was shuffling his feet and walking so as not to pull too far away from me.

“I’m sorry, man,” I said, “but this is all I’ve got right now.”

I hated it.

Rob, I’ve got some other things to…

You want to know how the marathon was?

Yeah.

Okay.

So, when I woke up that morning I was scared. I didn’t know if I could run five miles much less 26.2. Mostly, I knew that that feeling was coming, that tired, sluggish, yeah-I’m-technically-still-moving-but-the-needle-is-pointing-to-E feeling. The only question was when and how long would it last.

I started to feel good while waiting on the Verrazzano. The excitement was starting to build. I started to smile and I thought, “I’m about to run the New York City Marathon.” The race started and we were off.

And it was awesome. I felt good. All of the training was paying off. It was a beautiful day. People were out cheering. I had my name written big on my shirt but no one was cheering for me. I realized I was still towards the middle of the pack. So, I made my way closer to the side.

“Yeah, Rob!”

“I see you, Rob!”

I’m pretty sure a DJ said, “Rob is in the building.”

And now it’s a marathon.

It wasn’t the adrenaline that got me through. That’s not how it felt, anyway. I wouldn’t even say it was the cheering. It was just that I was doing it. I was smiling as I ran and I hate smiling. I think my face looks stupid when I smile and I hate my crooked gray teeth but I couldn’t help it.

I kept thinking to myself, “Dude, you’re running the New York City Marathon… like, right now. You’re running it right now, how cool is that? You trained for it and now you get to do it and you’re going to finish and this feels good.”

What didn’t happen, which I expected to happen and which happened on my longer runs, was thinking, “Oh no, I can’t believe I have X miles to go.” I kept thinking, “I can’t believe how far I’ve come so far. I was just in Park Slope, now I’m in Williamsburg… I was just in Long Island City, now I’m in the Upper East Side… I’m entering the Bronx. I made it to the Bronx! 20 miles!”

There was an old man shouting at us, “Get the hell out of the Bronx!” It was hilarious and awesome.

“I’m entering Harlem! Mile 22! Soon I’ll be at Central Park…”

Fuck 5th avenue.

5th Avenue has an incline which may not seem like much if you haven’t run 22 miles but when you have, it’s awful. And that’s when the feeling started, when my body turned to me and said, “So, how’s this whole ‘running’ thing workin’ out for ya, slick?”

Through Central Park, the crowds were dense and there was a lot of cheering but I could barely register it. By that time, I was saying to myself, out loud, “Do not. Stop. Running. Do not. Stop. Running. Do not… Stop… Running.”

We left the park and started along Central Park South. I knew that the end was near but not near enough for me. I couldn’t push anymore. And I had to keep at this pace for at least another mile.

And then I hit Columbus Circle. I knew the finish line was close and I ran hard towards it, essentially telling my body, “I’m doing this for both of us, asshole. The faster I run, the sooner this will be over.”

I should mention that for the whole marathon, my goal time was on my mind. I didn’t execute my plan to take it easy for 10, run at marathon pace for 10, then run the last 10k as hard as I could. I called an audible and realized that I got to mile 20 in a few minutes under 3 hours. This allowed me to run the last 6.2 slowly and still break 4:00.

But as I ran towards the finish, I didn’t know if I would make it. I ran towards the 26 mile marker and unlike EVERY SINGLE OTHER MILE MARKER, it didn’t have a time. So, I kept running.

And there it was, the giant finish line arch that I had run through in a 5k the year before. And the time said 3:57. I was going to make it. (My final time was 3:55:02 because it takes a couple of minutes to cross the start.)

I crossed the line and my legs felt like hell. I was out of it. I got my medal and walked like a zombie out of the park, responding to congratulatory texts from friends. It was an unassuming but triumphant walk.

And here’s the oversharing kicker. You’re not supposed to wear anything new on race day but I had bought a new, smaller compression shirt to wear under my shirt. Because it was tighter, my nip guards stayed in place the entire 26.2 miles. That, my friends, is a miracle. That is literally the first time that ever happened.

So, that’s how the marathon was.

And it was the ninth of my 9+1 races for 2019, so, yes, I’m doing it again next year.