When you get caught between the moon and New York City

My New York City Marathon instruction manual arrived earlier this week.  Formally titled the “ING New York City Marathon Official Handbook November 1, 2009″.  Yes, even the title is overwhelming.  I’ve only run one other race so complicated in orchestration that it necessitated sending a booklet to runners months in advance.  That race was the Boston Marathon.  Like a Pavlovian Dog I quickly developed a conditioned response to race day encyclopedias – pathological worry.  For these mega-marathons, race day logistics are so complicated we need ample time to study the race weekend rules and procedures.  Three minutes into reading the manual and I have a new found paralyzing fear of crowds.  40,000 people in that wee starting area.  I’m hyperventilating already.  Pass the lunch bag.  These tomes are mighty intimidating.  One fears that the slightest infraction or miscalculation will leave you abandoned in Manhattan, desperately seeking the start line.  I’d bet that a significant portion of those roaming New York City streets were once upon a time thrilled registrants in the famed NYC marathon.  Unable to make it Staten Island, they continually wander the streets dazed and confused.  I feel dazed and confused and I haven’t even booked my flight.

Alongside the arrival of the booklet is the release of the starting line transportation assignments. Race officials must herd 40,000 runners to Staten Island and then unleash them in speed-fixed waves upon the five boroughs.  The top secret manner of herd assignment has me catching the inaugural 5:30 am ferry.  My guess as to the top secret assignment process: caste-based.  The celebs and elites are scooted in at the last possible minute, while the not-so famous masses are forced onto the early vessels and left to endure hours outdoors before their death march to the starting corrals.  As mentioned, I was “lucky” enough to “win” the 5:30 am ferry slot to Staten Island.  No, not the expected bus ride from the New York City Library, which I wisely – or so I thought – used as a landmark to guide my hotel booking, but a ferry leaving the south end of Manhattan in the middle of the night.  5:30 am, as I will lament time and time again, is the first ferry ride to the island.  Translation – the longest possible pre-race wait.  Buried within the many words of the race manual I’m told to arrive at the ferry at least 15 minutes early.  Translation – my 5:30 am punisment actually means I have to rush to catch hypothermia at a dark (and probably stormy, if my luck holds) 5:15 am.  All this to wait for a starter’s pistol that, in my case, is likely to sound off at 10:20 am. 

I’m not strong enough to endure five hours filled with nervous port-a-loo visiting.  Just thinking about the epic pre-race campout has reduced me to excessive use of sarcastic air quotes, no telling what mental shape I’ll be in my 8:00 am race day.  My wise friends who ran NYC in previous editions have advised me to bring with camping worthy supplies for warmth and rest, but I’m not sure the Porter Airline baggage limit will accommodate sleeping bags and ground cloths. I may need to scout out a good NYC thrift store.   Otherwise I’m in for a  bone-chilling five hour wait.  I’m not convinced I can make frostbitten toes run 26.2 miles.

So my “luck” with the New York City Marathon, in which I “won” an entry two years before anticipated, continues.  The only good news?  Husband “won” the same ferry lottery, so we can shiver in unison while watching the sunrise over New York City.  He’s likely to be assigned to the wave one start (10:00 am), but I shall use my limited wiles and fluttering lashes to entice him to wait out the extra 20 minutes in my corral near, I hope (remember, new found fear of crowds), the start of wave two.

Title Reference: Christopher Cross – Arthur’s Theme Best That You Can Do).  From the album Arthur – The Album.  1981.