NYC Marathon.

It's very difficult to put into words what I experienced.

On Sunday, November the 7th 2010, I ran my first marathon, the New York City marathon, which passes through the 5 boroughs of New York City: Staten Island, Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx and Manhattan.

The alarm that day went off at 4.30 am, but we had one hour more to sleep - or rather of not sleeping, due to the clocks going back!

At 5 am we were all ready on the bus which took us from the hotel directly to the Marathon Village, close to the Verrazano Bridge.

When we arrived, before 6 am, the tension was already high. I looked for shelter in the tent, to get out of the cold, but it was already really crowded. In order to make the time pass I had a chat with an ophthalmologist from Tennessee, and with a guy from my city in Italy, Piacenza. A really tiny world! After the long queue to use the toilet it was already 9 am.

It's time to go to the corrals. From the corrals we are moved to the starting area, close to the ramp on the bridge. It's a few minutes past 10 am. We all look at each other and the emotion is strong. We know that within a few minutes our adventure will begin.

The cannon starts the race. In front of me I see thousands of people start running, but at this moment I can only walk. It would take about 2 minutes before I could start running as well.

Here we go: the marathon has started! I'm lucky to wear an orange bib because we are the only ones passing on the upper level of the bridge. A strong wind and a warm sun push me. I look towards the left and I see the skyscrapers of Manhattan looking really small. I say to myself, "do I actually have to get over there?!"

In few minutes I'm in Brooklyn: wonderful. I pass the first thousands of shouting supporters. I smile and I raise my thumb when they shout my name, the crowd really pushes you on.

I don't even realize that I've been running for almost 2 hours when I get to the Pulaski Bridge, which connects Brooklyn to Queens, exactly at the half marathon point. I feel good and I pass the bridge at my usual pace.

From there I can see my principal enemy, the Queensboro Bridge; and in a couple of miles I'm on it. There is no one cheering you up on the bridge; only thousands of runners in the most absurd silence, trying to pass the most difficult point of the race. The slope ends and the descent starts as it you hear the noise of the people welcoming you into Manhattan.


Two quick curves and I'm on First Avenue. It's a unique event - music, shouting, and a incredible noise accompany us. I spot my parents: I slow down, get close and I hug them. I cry. I start again immediately. It's a moment in my life that I will never forget.

Now I'm back in the race, alone, despite the fact that I'm among thousands runners, supported by thousands people either side of the road.


And it's then, at mile 17, with about 15 km to go, that I start cramping. First Avenue goes up and down now, more than the first part. Legs start to hurt. It's difficult, but I keep running.

Km 32, the Bronx: legs are really hurting. Fortunately, water and Gatorade help me for a few hundreds meters each time I drink, and it seems that the pain lessens a bit. But the mind is always at the top of its strength.

I think that no matter what it costs I can't stop, and that in Central Park there is a medal waiting for me, I WANT that medal!

Back into Manhattan over the last hated bridge. Now I'm at another difficult point, perhaps the most difficult, after the Queensboro Bridge: I'm at the 37th km. I studied the course thoroughly, and Fifth Avenue is straight, but there is more than one km of slope at this point, with still 3 miles to go. The slope is steep and the muscles of my legs become tighter. I have to slow down again, but still I don't stop! I'm counting the minutes remaining to the end of this bloody mile and, slowly, they pass.

Now I'm in Central Park at km 40. Again, there's a huge crowd. I really don't know how, but I find the energy to accelerate in the last 2 km. I run in front of the Plaza Hotel and I see the sign that tells me I have only to run the last 800 m. The smile comes back to my face despite the strong pain in both legs. I can sense that within few minutes my dream will become reality and that I can show my medal with pride.

I pass Columbus Circle, turn to the right and I'm back in the park. I can see the finish line and I pass it. I raise my arms in sign of victory, but I have to bring my hands to my face for the incredible emotion, immortalized in pictures that will last forever.


4 h 24 m 54 s.

Luca 27 year-old, marathoner.