A Tribute to Mile 27
Stomping my foot down on the time tracking finish line, I let out a breathless “YES!” and raised my arms above my head. Ideally, this moment had me looking picture perfect: flushed cheeks, a grin exemplifying pure joy, and the perfect backdrop of a cheering crowd. Realistically, the moment was comprised of Gatorade-stained lips, screaming hamstrings, and salt the size of small crystals across my forehead. But I didn’t care. I had just completed my first marathon. I was ecstatic! But I wasn’t out of the woods yet: there was another challenge right in front of me…
Some say the finish line of the TCS New York City Marathon is the hardest part. Some call it ‘mile 27.’ The final push, even though the clock has stopped and you’ve technically completed the race. You are warned that exiting Central Park will take much longer than you imagine. You are told to follow instructions and prepare yourself by picking a meeting spot far away from the Park.
As I shuffled forward, the finish line just a few paces behind me, I felt like I was in a scene from The Walking Dead. Exhausted finishers were barely dragging one foot in front of the other, although there was a mutual sense of elation that ran through the crowd. A professional photographer skirted by, snapping photos and gathering a group to pose. ‘Okay, now jump up!’ she said sarcastically, and we all let out a gasping chuckle.
The sea of zombie finishers started to split off: those who opted to check a bag went straight, heading north in the Park, and those who chose a special blue poncho in lieu of checking a bag turned left, curving west. Just then, it hit me: a wave of lightheadedness, followed by anxiety. I braced myself, holding on to the guardrail that separated the poncho-choosers from the bag-checkers. I expected to faint. I considered sitting down right there, but I didn’t want to be in everyone’s way. A volunteer approached me and I calmly told her how I felt. She grabbed my hands and said: “Whatever you do, DO NOT sit down.”
WHAT?! How could she say this to me? Now I wanted to sit even more than I already did! I assured her I’d be fine taking a seat, I don’t mind if I cramp up! But she insisted I remain standing. Just then, a medic approached. She hesitated, but must have seen the desperation in my eyes, because she gave me the OK to sit down. I felt much better on the ground, maybe it was psychological. My phone buzzed again, calls alternating between my mother and my boyfriend Steve. They were checking in to see how close I was to our designated meeting spot. Why I picked a spot over 10 blocks south of the Park is beyond me. I tried to reply, but my slurred, confused words didn’t make sense. I sounded drunk! I texted and explained the situation, but service was minimal.
The moment I felt even the slightest bit better, I rose back on to my wobbly legs and followed the curve to receive my poncho. I was close to receiving mine when the second round of the will-I-or-will-I-not-pass-out? game began. I asked for help again and the volunteer handing out ponchos heroically threw the pile to the ground. His name was Fernando and he assured me that I would be alright as he grabbed my shoulders. I instantly felt safer, knowing he would catch me if I were to fall. We slowly started to walk toward the medic tent as he asked me a series of questions:
“Did you drink water?”
“Yes, I had the whole bottle in the goodie bag”
“Did you eat anything since you finished?”
“No, I’m really not hungr-”
“You need to eat!”
From there, Fernando started feeding me pretzels. They tasted like chalk. I won’t lie, I felt better instantly. I told him I didn’t want go to to the medic tent anymore just as Steve, standing out in a black shirt and jeans among a sea of blue ponchos, somehow managed to enter the Park. I was so thankful he came to my rescue, but Fernando, my acquaintance-turned-bodyguard, interrogated him. I confirmed I was in safe hands, thanked him, and we proceeded out of the Park, poncho wrapped snugly around my arms.
Mile 27 is no joke. The volunteers didn’t have to help me, but they went above and beyond their responsibilities that day. That’s the beauty of the NYC running community. The entire marathon experience was priceless and offered so many moments of self-realization, but this last part was my favorite. Achieving a milestone that seemed like a pipe dream, coupled with genuine human kindness, gave me a new perspective on the whole adventure.
Was it scary? Yes.
Is it funny to look back on? Yes.
Would I do it all over again? Absolutely.
