On any other big marathon day, I'd be happy to grab a couple of fleeting glimpses of the elite field as it flies by. But not today. I just spent my morning sprinting, jogging, and crowd surfing across Central Park so I could watch this dramatic race unfold. Along with hundreds of new, fast friends, I saw the leaders 11 times during two thrilling hours.
The day began around 7am. As I crossed the Great Lawn in twilight, the park was hushed and empty. I saw two men chomping cigars as their dogs romped in the grass. I stationed myself near 81st street next to a trio of guys from Kentucky who are running New York for the first time. We sipped coffee as the leaders cruised by--the 60 or so guys in that pack definitely outnumbered the fans at this spot. A few minutes later we were sprinting eastbound for more action.
With each traverse, the events on the road got more intense--as did the fervor of the crowd. On the east side, over by the Metropolitan Museum of Art, people were clanging cowbells and had face paint to match the Hanson uniform. By the time Ryan Hall, Dathan Ritzenheim, and three others separated themselves from the field, hundreds of racing fans were hooting and screaming encouragement at my formerly desolate outpost. Almost everyone in this crowd was wearing running shoes and track pants, and people were impatient to sprint to their next viewing spot. By the halfway point, people were taking off a minute or two after the leaders passed, even though most of the elite field was still flying through. I felt sorry for all the guys who would run 2:20 today, always coming upon a horde of fans running away as they approached.
Somewhere around my seventh crossing of the Great Lawn, the paths began to resemble an actual marathon--a sea of bobbing heads and swishing pants. This crowd went absolutely nuts when Ryan Hall floated past around mile 19 because everyone could fully appreciate how he had blown upon the race. And all the Hanson crazies hurled their lustiest cheers for Brian Sell as he surged toward a bid. And then two minutes later the spot was deserted for a new vantage on the West Side.
CA Notice at Collection Ryan Shay--someone was passing around a digital photo of him being loaded into an ambulance, so we knew it was really happening. It was a terrible reality to process, especially with such an epic battle being waged before us on East Park Drive. People are amazingly capable of processing grief and celebrating the brilliance of life. And watching Ryan and Dathan and Brian gain strength, and run toward an Olympic bid was an inspiring sight.
Back at the spot near 81st Street where I started my morning, at least 1,000 people were massed as Hall and his strung out chasers surged by one last time. At this point I think I had logged about 4 miles, but it was not time to relax. Along with a sea of people that had exactly the same idea, I headed south in a final dash to witness the finish. I jogged next to Peter Sheehy, a New Yorker who was watching the race with his 3-year-old son Will. As he pushed his stroller and ran, he surmised the last couple hours. "This is crazy," he said. "Crazy in a good way."
I made it to the finish as the clock ticked to 2:06. But the crowd was too thick to penetrate. My press credentials were useless. I wound up straining to watch Ryan Hall cross the line triumphantly on a big screen TV that was partially obscured by an oak tree. I was surrounded by a jostling crowd of running fans and New Yorkers who were witnessing a moment of history, and I was not unhappy to have such a strange vantage point. I was exactly where I wanted to be.
What You Need to Know About the Sydney Marathon Live to Ride: Finding Joy and Meaning on a Bicycle is out in March 2024.
