Once we crested the bridge, the downhill with its light breeze was like a soothing balm. Don\u2019t get too excited, I calmed myself, it is only the start. The 30 min 5km felt controlled. As we entered Brooklyn, the party picked up. The streets were lined with supporters – house parties were on in every block, with Djs, live bands and beer. Oh yeah-we had warmed up well, or had we heated up too much? <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Exercising caution, I controlled the effort and soldiered on, over the rolling roads- all streets of New York either sloped up or gently down- what a way to discover this! Around mile 8\/9, I kept my eyes peeled for my cousin Sonal and her family along Bedford Ave in the riot of faces. And there they were- I had missed them, a little behind me so I had to double back. We did a group hug, sharing gratitude and love, took 2 photos- (the second angle was better than the first, she said) and I carried on. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Soon, the high become a low. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n By 10 miles I was fully drenched in sweat and fatigued by the cruel heat of the sharp sun. This is when the walking began, under the guise of a crowded water station. I consoled myself, that it was alright to take these walking breaks as long as they were ONLY at every alternate water station. It was going to be a long road ahead- and not a very pleasant one. <\/p>\n\n\n\n 2.06 at the halfway mark, not bad I thought, I could manage a sub 4.15 at this rate. <\/p>\n\n\n\n We left Brooklyn to enter the dreaded Queensboro Bridge. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Literally and figuratively the death zone. <\/p>\n\n\n\n There were no supporters. <\/p>\n\n\n\n An eerie silence prevailed. <\/p>\n\n\n\n The hollowness was broken only by the rhythmic pounding of the runners\u2019 feet, a dull heartbeat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n No one was talking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It was a long steady climb, a struggle to barely survive it until the other end. <\/p>\n\n\n\n My spirit was sinking to an all-time low and by chance, I glanced to my left and saw a splash of sunlight on the pavement. I stopped. Climbed up. Looked left to see the Brooklyn that I had left behind and turned to admire the iconic Manhattan skyline ready to welcome me, on my right. <\/p>\n\n\n\n A few deep breaths and I climbed down-clumsily-yet smiling. Something had shifted and suddenly all was right with the world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Gratitude re-entered my heart. I cheered on the runners and myself, and ran the rest of the dreadful tunnel with a spring in my step (it was also downhill!).<\/p>\n\n\n\n This brief positivity was sucked out by the short but steep 59th<\/sup> street bridge. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Misery settled in and that\u2019s when the walking on the uphill began. Then I saw the sign that was probably the most important one of the entire race, \u201cLast Damned Bridge!\u201d it said and I laughed out loud, high-fived the guy holding it, felt a wave of relief pass over me. They say a million people come out to cheer the NYC marathon, making it the largest event in the world. At that moment it seemed that they were all around us. The screams of the crowds, just as we entered 1st<\/sup>\u00a0Ave was unbelievable. Yes, I had read about it, anticipated, but not prepared for the reality of it. I felt like a star! This euphoria, with the slight downhill gave me a sense(false) of power.\u00a0\u00a0Feeling invincible, I shook out my shoulders and opened my stride. Don\u2019t get carried away- I had read in all the blogs, but I was in Manhattan, living the dream! We flew along 1st<\/sup>\u00a0Ave, from 120th<\/sup>\u00a0St all the way to 65th<\/sup>\u00a0St, turning at onto 5th<\/sup>\u00a0Ave to approach the dreaded uphill of the Museum Mile. We would pass all the famous museums and landmarks \u2013 the end was near and I had gone \u201cphoos\u201d again. This race had gotten the better of me. After each walk I would decide to run either a full km or at least until the next water break- but I just could not keep up. My friends surprised me when they showed up at this late stage.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n I was thrilled. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n And in tears. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n The waterworks had started. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n The crowd was deafening, packed along the streets- 5 deep. Bells, whistles, screams, shouts, clapping, chanting, and music- the crowd was giving us all that they could. <\/p>\n\n\n\n By then my brain was dead. I had lost track of which lap I was in \u2013 gel time or date time? It really didn\u2019t matter. Nothing could save me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In my dejected state, as I walked, a (very sweet!) man, I guess he thought that he was comforting me said, \u201cKoi baat nahin beta, thoda sa chal lo<\/em>!\u201d Oh man, I lost my head, shot him a dirty look and broke into a run, smack in the middle of the uphill, in retaliation. But of course, this bravado was short-lived. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Minutes and miles went by interminably. <\/p>\n\n\n\n On the last stretch, the fag end, last 2km, in Central Park, with supporters in either side calling out my name, cheering me on, I trudged along. Suddenly I heard a familiar voice saying, \u201cParul, you can do this!\u201d I looked up and it was my oldest friend, Amee waiting to give me a hug and ask me, \u201cHow are you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/therunningsoul.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/11\/IMG_6661.jpeg\")
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