Yvonne Learmonth on 2013 NYC Marathon

“They shall mount up with wings like eagles. They shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint” Book of Isiaiah

Marathon entry is the only lottery ticket I’ve ever bought; I’ve never had my number come up. For some Marathon Majors I’ve worked hard and got in on time, but for the New York marathon I had to bide my time and wait four years, getting in as a default “lottery loser”; 2013 was to be my year!  I joined the CU Racing team in August 2013 to help me prepare. Working with Jeff Kelly we followed Owen Anderson’s advice from his book Running Science. It was different from plans I’d previously followed, concentrating on speed and strength, rather than the traditional long slow miles. I liked it.

My only true goal for New York was to enjoy it, and to enjoy preparing for it. The later I did, the former, I almost did. As often happens “The best laid schemes o' mice an' men; Gang aft agley" (Robert Burns), in the week before the race I damaged my shoulder and once again had to bide my time to see what repercussion this may have on race day. I didn’t know if I’d be walking New York, or if the shoulder would hold. It did.

The race itself; Frank Sinatra sends you on your way from Staten Island, up and over the intimidating two-mile-long Verrazano Bridge, through Brooklyn, where glimpses of home can be seen far away, and on to Queens. The route of the marathon briefly kisses the borough of Queens, but it was certainly an entertaining kiss as the music and crowds got louder and louder each mile.

On crossing the Queensboro bridge I passed a chap running whilst bouncing two basketballs, impressive, but not as impressive as the many disabled athletes I passed on the course.  The true inspirations.

Arriving into Manhattan the runners take the crowds head on. Spectators stood several rows deep and cheered for us all. It was at moments like this that I wished I wasn’t injured, high-fiving and raising my arms to the crowd is all part of the experiences; next time. Feeling like celebrities we ran the length of First Avenue and then briefly experienced the musical delights of the Bronx. Where a giant television screen captured how good we all looked.

Returning back to “The Island” a fellow runner was on his phone telling his friend “There’s only five miles to go, I don’t care if I walk the rest of the way, I’ve got this”. I agreed. I tentatively checked my time for the first time; it wasn’t too shabby under the circumstances. So I grabbed half a banana, and sailed home to Central Park.

En route to celebrating with friends that evening we struggled to get a taxi, I guessed not many people wanted to walk that night. We got a taxi on 59^th at Columbus Circle, but before getting in a runner past us. She was older and weary, she was wearing a bib, she was a marathoner and she was persevering to the finish half a mile on. My family and I cheered her and although I can’t be sure I think her name was Joy.

A few days later I returned to Champaign, IL and read online about the oldest female entrant, 86 year old Joy Johnson. Joy, who pinned the runner’s mantra from the book of Isaiah on her kitchen wall, completed her 25^th New York marathon that day.

I hope seeing the word Finish Line was sweet for Joy. It was bitter sweet for me as it marked the end of a four year dream.  Berlin and Tokyo will complete the marathon majors for me. Then? Well, then I may travel the world tasting wine.