Part 1 published 11/24/2018. Marathon, post-marathon, and reflection to follow – 2019?

I hadn’t slept very well Friday night, but Saturday night was actually good, defying common wisdom. We had a nice early dinner at Uva. We overheard that the guy in the couple next to us was also running, and J encouraged me to tell him, but I got a weird vibe and declined. We went to bed super-early even before accounting for the extra hour, so I woke up at 5:30 without much trouble but could tell I had walked too far. I didn’t stress about it, though; the advantage of it being my 3rd go-round was the calm conviction that I would be fine, and that served me well throughout the day. I thought I might have time to work on a blog post—of course not!—but I made coffee, burbled around on the Internet, took a quick cold shower to get myself more awake, and started getting my stuff together. Luckily everything fit in my new fabric waistband (FlipBelt knockoff which Jonathan brilliantly named the “runnerbund”) and I didn’t have to bring my old fanny-pack style waist bag that has been annoying me. I was looking forward to exploring the start villages—I was assigned to green but they told us at the Expo that we were welcome in any—especially petting the therapy dogs and trying to snag one of the Dunkin Donuts fleece beanies.
1. Subway
I was aiming to be out the door around 7 for an 8:30 ferry (they told us to get to the ferry terminal half an hour before departure), and it was only a little later when Jonathan walked me to the subway station at 77th St and Lex. We speculated about seeing other runners but I didn’t see any until I was actually on the train. Two women holding the recognizable plastic bags got off at 14th St, telling each other “That’s right, we have to switch trains.” I belatedly realized/remembered that I needed to catch a 4 train and I was on a 6, but luckily there was still the Brooklyn Bridge stop where I could just cross the platform. An older man got off the 6 with me and said “We’ll still make it, won’t we?” He ran for the first time last year and told me his time would be around six hours. He was scheduled for the 8:00 ferry and it was already close to that time when the 4 finally arrived; a little bunch of us were socializing by then. I remembered the 4 only runs every 15 or 20 minutes on Sunday and it would have behooved me to catch the earlier one; oh well, I thought, still plenty of time!
2. Ferry

The Staten Island Ferry station was much bigger than I remembered it, and absolutely jammed with people in multiple massive lines that bled together. It was just a few minutes past 8 so I was right on time. At about ten past, the doors to the ferry opened and the crowd surged ahead. I asked the people next to me if this was the 8am ferry, thinking I should maybe hang back to get on the one I was assigned to, but they said “it’s a cattle call at this point” and you just catch whichever you can. So I followed the crowds and the injunction “there are four levels, please fill them,” finding a spot at the rail on the top deck, looking across to the New Jersey side. It was a chilly but beautiful ride. We all tried to take selfies and photos of each other with the Statue of Liberty in the background, but we were backlit. My favorite part of the trip was watching gulls close up as they hovered on the wind around the boat; you could see their feet dangling and their contour feathers fluffing. Despite my hoodie I got somewhat chilled and went indoors for a bit to warm up. As we docked a bunch of us were sent to the back of the boat to join the end of the disembarkation line, and I went out on the stern to get a good view of the Verrazano Bridge. Amazing to think we’d be running across it! Now I know I should have attempted to get off the boat sooner, even though it was only about 8:45, but no regrets.
3. Bus

The giant blob of ferry passengers emerged onto a concrete taxi/bus stand and slowed to a crawl. We couldn’t see where we were going and it was cold and windy (would have been worse if not for the huddle). I chatted with several people—one woman was supposed to be in the 10am wave and eventually broke ranks to try to get further ahead. (I saw her again at about mile 21 so she must have ended up in the last wave). Passengers for the return ferry filtered by, gawking at the giant mass of people—one woman marveled aloud “Look at that!” and took photos. We must have been in line for at least 45 minutes. Eventually we could see the stream of buses pulling up, and finally we turned onto the sidewalk where the boarding happened, four buses at a time. The barriers were loaded with last-minute discards.

The line I was in appeared to be for a bus that was so full that someone said “I don’t want to stand!” and backed off, and I said “I’ll stand!” But there was still plenty of room, so I did get a seat (and the ride ended up being long enough that standing would not have been much fun). My seatmate ran last year for a charity and said they were bussed to the village, got there at 7, and waiting that long in the cold was awful. We drove very slowly, with lots of stops for traffic lights or jams. Across the way, a woman got a text from a friend who’d taken the direct bus to the start, but their bus driver took a wrong turn and missed the window to get over the Verrazano before it closed, so they had to take the ferry after all and were behind us. I wonder if they made it! The warmth of the bus was a relief, but I was starting to worry about the time as it was well past 10am. I knew I’d make it to the start line but wasn’t sure I’d have time to explore the start villages. I had noticed how everyone was carrying beverages and food, and wondered why they didn’t just rely on the stuff at the start, but now it all made sense. I hoped I’d at least get some coffee as I hadn’t had much at home.
4. Finally: the start village!
We disembarked from the bus at around 10:30. After another round of security I followed the crowds along New York Avenue. We passed the orange village and I saw a Dunkin Donuts truck. No beanies in sight, but I got coffee and a lousy bagel (no taste, bland texture—as I suspected it would be, but as Jonathan pointed out, what a shame in the city of the great bagel!) and started wolfing it down. The therapy dogs were gone. Everyone was loading up and we were already being instructed to go to our start corrals. I barely had time to get to a porta-potty (no line by then, everyone was clearing out) when I heard a cannon and “New York, New York”—that was Wave 3 starting. I made my way to the B corral just a minute before it closed. Despite straw laid down on the grass, it was a sea of mud and I was extra-glad I’d worn regular shoes instead of my Five Fingers. To be continued!