January
1996
Running
on Grass: The Adventures of a Vegetarian in the New York City
Marathon
By Julie Graham
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Running on grass? Well, not exactly. More like pasta,
rice, bread, vegetables, fruit, some milk and a few eggs. I’ve
been a vegetarian for over 20 years. I started running for fitness
twelve years ago, and the wish
to participate in the Marathon started where I first moved to New York
in 1977. Each Marathon, my boy friend (now husband, Steve) and I would
go watch the runners stream by. This is the great inclusive event of
our city. It transcends boundaries of all kinds and celebrates the
ordinary person doing an extraordinary thing. The crowd cheers everyone,
not
just the front runners. Some of the most extraordinary runners are
the Achilles (disabled) athletes. This year the last runner came in over
24 hours after the start.
My personal marathon story started when a friend who was turning 40
wanted to mark the event by showing she could still "do it." This
was the perfect opportunity for me to do it too, even though my fortieth
was well past. The training schedule I used involved gradually
building from twelve miles per week up to forty miles per week for
six weeks. The two weeks before the race, you taper down to 25-30 miles
to gather strength for the 26.2 miles on marathon day. Most of the
mileage
for these weeks is done in varying lengths of 6 to 12 miles. But to
prepare both your body and your mind for the long distance, you must
do two to three 18-to-20 mile runs spaced about four weeks apart. You
do not do the full distance since it would use up your reserves. Training
takes about forty weeks and is intended to get the novice (me) to the
finish line.
We did two "Long Training Runs" in Central Park with the New
York Road Runners Club. The long runs are 20 mile runs in Central Park
which you do with people that run at your pace — 10.5 minute miles
in my case (pretty slow but steady). I learned to watch my speed since
I tended to get over excited at times and go over my pace. This used
up too much energy and I would ultimately have to slow down again later
— much slower. We also learned to put Vaseline on our feet (and
any other area that might abrade — boy can that hurt!). Drinking
lots of water is also very important — especially on warmer days.
Interestingly, for the long runs, they also provided bananas. I was
amazed to discover how much some water and a banana could do for you
after 12 to 16 miles.
Nutritionally, pasta is considered the perfect food for long distance
running. "Carbo loading" — eating a lot of carbohydrates
so that your body has a lot of instantly available energy — is
the nutrition strategy for the marathon and training. Of course, a vegetarian
diet is the perfect expression of this strategy since it automatically
contains a high percentage of carbohydrates. I found that my eating
didn’t change much — I just ate more to accommodate the
greater energy output.
The most difficult part of preparing for the marathon, for me, was that
six-week stretch of forty-mile weeks. When you run a 10-minute mile
the main problem is finding the time for that much running. I also have
to work, take care of a child (in conjunction with my husband) and otherwise
try to carry on as usual. I spent a lot of time on the road by myself,
with my walkman. Then I would stretch or take a hot bath, to fight the
tightening effects of running. I squeezed time away from work and home.
My husband and son Eric were also very tolerant of my preoccupation.
I found myself adding my mileage in my head all the time, trying to
figure new variations on the same old running loop, and generally being
incredibly obsessive.
My last 20-mile long run was on a miserably hot and muggy day. I finished
at my pace despite the weather. The last three miles were run while
the skies opened, flooding the roadways. My running shoes must have
weighed an extra two pounds each from the water in them. I was so glad
to be done with that run and with my six 40-mile weeks! I was relieved,
disgusted, ready to "taper" and perhaps give up running altogether
— after the Marathon.
Marathon day finally came. My friends and I were on the phone several
time the day before discussing what to wear, when to leave in the car
to get there on time, what to eat the morning before, etc. Here were
new and previously unimagined ways to obsess about the marathon. The
weather was terrible — it snowed — the day before and the
prediction was for clearing but cold. I decided to dress warmly.
We arrived just in time to get checked in, use the toilets (all these
things take on great importance), and get to the start. The ground
was
muddy. It was blustery and cold — the coldest marathon ever.
People who came by bus had been there for hours and many were wearing
garbage
bags to protect themselves from the cold wind. As we hurried to the
start I saw the sea of runners ahead of us waiting for the gun. An
electric
current went up my spine. The wind whipped everything around, the arch
of balloons at the start was broken and flailing about and the garbage
bags had gotten loose and were flying everywhere above us all. The
gun
went off and everyone gave whoops of joy and excitement. We were all
happy that the day had finally come.
Slowly, the crowd pushed politely but firmly forward. We walked at
first, leaping over the piles of cast-off warm-up clothing runners
thought
they wouldn’t need for the run (it is picked up, cleaned and
given to charity). I threw no clothing off. Trainers advise you to
visualize
the run, but this is not anything you could have imagined. After 15
minutes of this we finally crossed the start line and are actually
running,
in an ocean of runners, shoulder to shoulder. But the spaces between
each of us molecules gradually started to get bigger and we had more
room to maneuver. We crossed the Verazzano Bridge and headed into Brooklyn.
At first, the biggest crowd was the runners. Bay Ridge was friendly
but small. The weather was hard on the spectators as well. But as we
moved along, the balance of the crowd and the number of runners slowly
shifted. The runners spread out more as our varying speeds translated
into miles ahead or behind one another. Everyone cheered and wished
us luck. My running partner and friend Barbara was wearing a T-shirt
which says "GO MOM", made by her daughter, and many people
yelled "GO MOM" to her. It became our joke. I basked in the
reflected glow of their support. We stopped briefly on Fourth Avenue
to hug family and friends who cheered us there and ran on. After passing
the Williamsburg Bank building, we entered an area of joy and celebration
I couldn’t believe. All along the race course were bands playing
for the runners; but here it was like a wild party. The band and the
crowd were an upwelling of sound and good cheer. This was a racially
mixed crowd that was cheering for us all — representing, for
me, the best the City has to offer. My face started to hurt from smiling
so much.
As we passed further toward the border of Queens, things calmed down.
The Hasidic community had all its little girls lined up sitting in chairs
to watch us go by. The boys must have been in school. Then again we
went through a small shopping area where most people were shopping and
not watching the race. Finally, after 16 miles, we went over the Queensborough
Bridge. This was the scariest bridge to cross. We went over the pedestrian
walkway which is made of metal grating. They put a carpet down the center
about three people wide, but its not enough. Here we slowed way down
and ran very carefully. Many people were now walking. We had to pass
them, often by going off the carpet and onto the grating. It was slippery
and uncertain going.
On the other side of the Bridge a huge crowd awaited us. I tried looking
for many family and friends who were going to be waiting there. I realized
there were too many people here to find anyone. Despite the good cheer,
I was disappointed not to see them. As we went up First Avenue, we
were
headed into the wind. It was like being blown backwards at times. My
knee, which hadn’t hurt me at all during training, now had shooting
pains. This caused me to run out-of-balance to compensate. This, in
turn, made all my leg joints hurt from running funny. I started to
feel
very sorry for myself, despite the wonderful people along the route.
Then we passed a medical tent which offered Tylenol and I decided to
accept. I wanted to finish the race. My friend stayed with me and we
walked until I was better. Then we ran again.
We came to the Willis Avenue Bridge, a blighted urban area, but even
here there was a small crowd cheering us on. Many consider this "The
Wall". Runners often experience the worst pain and emotional exhaustion
here. I certainly did. Everything hurt. It was cold. I had to fight
off the urge to cry. But I continued running. I owed it to all that
training, to my friend who needed my support. I could see all those
other runners still running. I ran through the pain.
As we came down Fifth Avenue through Harlem, it started to dawn on
me that I was going to make it. There would be life after the Marathon.
After 22 miles, we came to the notorious hills in Central Park. Now,
my friend needed to walk for a bit. But we ran again, down through
the
park towards the finish. The crowds got bigger. The cheering was louder.
I saw my husband and son, and Barbara saw some dear friends whom she
stopped to hug. Making the turn onto 59th Street there was a wall of
sound and people. Here was the most amazing support of the race. As
a newspaper article said, there was an invisible wave carrying you
along.
I wondered how I was doing it. I felt impervious to the crowd and everything.
Then I heard a voice from the side lines: "Julie, you did it!" A
friend who came for the race actually picked me out of the crowd. It
was so astounding. The next moment I thought that this was the dumbest
thing I had ever done. But I figured that I might as well finish since
I was already almost there.
So I did. 5 hours and 4 minutes. I came to the finish and gave my best
winning gesture for the camera while thinking, "Can I please stop
now?" They gave us roses, a bag of food, a silver wrap. We had
to walk down chutes almost a mile long to get out of the way of all
the runners behind us. We were amazed. We were elated. It was a miracle.
I could still stand up.
Would I do it again? I didn’t think so before the Marathon, but
I now see why people might want to do it again. It’s an extraordinary
experience. To quote a friend who saw her first New York City Marathon
this fall: "This gives me hope for the world." I’m
glad I did it.
Julie Graham is a graphic designer, painter and
now, Marathoner. She lives in Brooklyn.
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