New York City Marathon: The Course

Before I get into some unjustifiably testy post/discussion about how last Sunday went, or more accurately, didn’t, I’ll let you know a little about what this race is all about. It’s really more of an event than a race, but who knows, someday you may want to join nearly forty thousand people running this crazy, well, event. And a little course knowledge can help you decide if you want to make the trip to old NYC for a little afternoon pain and dehydration. Is it worth it? I think so, but it’s not for rabbits desperate for a PR. As the local cliché goes, and yes, it's embarrasing to type, fuhgeddaboutit.


OK, one of the goals of the marathon here is to get you to race throughout the five boroughs (Staten Island, Brooklyn, Queens, The Bronx, and Manhattan, in that order). So you start off for a few minutes in Staten Island and head across the Verrazano Bridge into Brooklyn. The steepest hill on the course is the incline up to the top of the bridge, but you never really notice it because the crowds slow you down and it’s too early to really feel a hill anyway.

Runners are divided into three corrals and are directed onto either the top part of the bridge, which is more scenic, or the bottom level, which is somewhat less so. And oddly dangerous, because men on the top section stop to relieve themselves over the side of the bridge once the race gets going, and the resulting rainfall from above makes for panicked mayhem below. Imagine lots of runners near the sides of the lower level seeing windborne drops of mystery liquid heading towards them. Getting wet this way is not a pleasant way to start off your race, so most runners run in and away from the sides to avoid unplanned golden showers.

After a mile and a half you’re in Brooklyn, and you’re there for quite a while. The crowd support is unbelievable, and you see quaint ethnic neighborhoods that just fly by, one after another. From Hispanic to Hasidic, Brooklyn has it all. And 4th Avenue is the main drag of the race, it goes on and on in the direction of Manhattan for miles. It’s flat and wonderful and filled with rock bands, DJs, gospel choirs and everyone and evrything else you can shoehorn into one gigantic twelve-mile street party.

So your eardrums take a brief rest leaving Brooklyn, and you take a small bridge into Queens and Long Island City. At this point, it’s halfway, and like most folks, you’re starting to feel it. After a few minutes of hearing the self-evident ‘Welcome to Queens!’ you’re zigzagging through warehouse terrain towards the first big hill of the second half, the Queensboro/59th St Bridge. With no crowd support on the lower level, you find yourself running in dim light and on a somewhat steep uphill past mile 16. The bridge goes on for a mile and a half, it seems to never end… until you start to hear something, and that something is the roar of midtown Manhattanites waiting for you. They say that 2 million people show up to cheer on the marathoners, and suddenly it feels like at least 1 million of that is waiting at the bottom of the bridge and 1st Avenue. It’s the cinematic marathon lump-in-your-throat moment of your marathon life, and nothing can compare to seeing thousands and thousands of people, ten deep behind baricades, cheering like they’ve lost their goddamn minds.

And 1st Avenue opens up to six lanes wide, and you can see three miles straight ahead of you. Like Nebraska, but with asphalt and concrete and skyscrapers… Well, maybe Nebraska isn’t a good analogy, let’s just say it’s cavernous, and with an incredible number of people facing you. Making your way north through the Upper East Side, the avenue rolls a bit, and miles 17 and 18 and 19 tick off, but a lot slowly than before. So you head through the 60s, the 70s, 80s and 90s until you start to hit Spanish Harlem around 96th St. and not much later, Harlem. It looks better than ever, though the crowds get a little sparser the farther you get from midtown.

After a tiresome uphill across the Willis Avenue Bridge you’re in the Bronx, wending your way around blocks of low buildings and brownstones for about a mile or so before crossing back into Manhattan in the 130s. It’s a U-turn, and now you’re heading directly south back through Harlem. It’s Fifth Avenue, and it’s miles 21 and 22, and if you’re going to start struggling today, now’s the time.

The crowds are still there to cheer you on as you sidestep Marcus Garvey Park in the middle of the road and continue on towards Central Park a mile ahead. The early November sun is shining directly in your face now, and if it’s warmer than usual, it’s not a good thing, but the park trees are coming up soon to provide shelter. But wait… it’s getting harder as you pass the northeast corner of Central Park. You already know you’re getting tired, it’s mile 23 after all, but… it’s… A Hill, and it’s the second really unpleasant incline of the afternoon. It goes on gradually for what seems like an eternity; you begin to look for street signs, they’re getting lower… 104th St., 103rd St., 102nd St., and it never seems to get better. All you see are upper east siders cheering you on both sides of Fifth Avenue (narrowed to two lanes now) and row after row of hanging traffic lights ahead, taunting green one minute, red the next.

Finally, finally, the hill gradually flattens as you descend into the mid-90s, and then before you can actually have time to enjoy a flat Fifth, you’re swept right into the park. Where thousands and thousands, now five or six deep behind barricades are cheering you on, NYPD cops, bunched in twos, watching you go by. Mile 24 and a water station are around the bend (thank God) before you head down Cat Hill (thank God, again) towards the bottom of the park. The hills start to roll, though some are heading down, and it’s now when most runners are digging deep.

After a short trip to the southeastern corner (Grand Army Plaza, where you find the Plaza Hotel, the Apple Store Cube, FAO Schwartz, etc.), it’s a quick right turn along 59th Street/Central Park South. You’ve already passed the ‘1 Mile To Go’ marker, and the running effort and crowd support is getting vaguely hysterical. Heading directly west, you pass by Columbus Circle back into the park, and you see ‘800 Meters to Go’. Sheer willpower and concentration pushes everyone forward as one huge mass of runners moves forward up one final, damn hill. At last, the finish line is there, and there’s no stopping now, and the crowd is so nuts it won’t let you stop even if you wanted to. By that point, 300 runners a minute are crossing the finish line., and it’s just impossible to not be swept away by the tide through the huge FINISH arch and the beeping chip mats.


(P.S. This morning I saw on the news the last person to make it across the finish line, a lady with MS who was walking to raise awareness about her disease. Though it took her 28 hours to complete the course, it took me about 1 second after I saw her to know she was my favorite runner out there… She and Paula Radclifffe really should meet for lunch to swap race stories…