This few weeks ago, three TBD teammates got off the bike and ran the New York City Marathon. Although running is undeniably far less efficient than biking, they found covering the five boroughs on two feet still had a lot to offer. This is their perspective on one of the best running races anywhere in the world:

Matt - 2:46:21

I didn’t know what to expect from this marathon. I’ve run three marathons before: New York (2017 and 2018) and Berlin (2019). Each year, my time’s gotten faster, from 3:10, to 2:58, to 2:50. But my training this time around was short of what I’d hoped. I spent the summer training for the Green Mountain Stage Race, which is notably different from the marathon in that participants are allowed to use wheels. That meant I had only about 7 weeks to go from 0 to 70 miles of running per week.

My training went okay. After an early scare with a hip and quad injury, I was able to ramp to two weeks over 70 miles. I ran a half marathon PR (1:17) at a tune-up 6 weeks before the marathon. My track workouts felt harder than expected, but my long tempo runs felt good and strong. I ran over 20 miles five times, and made it up to 24 miles during a beautiful run around a pond in the Berkshires. By the time race week arrived, I felt I’d somehow managed to pull off a marathon cycle in very little time – no doubt in part thanks to the aerobic base from cycling.

The week before the race I was a bundle of nerves. I dreamt of knowing my time but being unable to remember any part of the race itself. But the night before the race, I called two friends who were running the marathon for the first time. Both had trained but neither knew what to expect. Talking them through the moments of the course, the necessity of starting slow, the deliciousness of Maurten gels, and the importance of high-fiving at least a few kids in Brooklyn calmed my nerves. I went to bed remembering, for the first time this training cycle, that this marathon is less about finishing times and more about the enormous block party the city throws for itself.

Race day started early, at 4am, with an enormous bowl of oatmeal. I hopped in an Uber without my phone, keys, or wallet and picked up Scott on the way to the ferry. On the way to Staten Island, we bantered about how many gels we could eat and educated some runners on the proper way to pin a number (through the paper, not through the holes). At the start, Scott and I hung out and tried to stay warm in between trips to the bathroom. Despite it being cold and a bit uncomfortable, I can’t think of a better way to start a Sunday.

Then we finally got to the actual race. I started right at the front of the first wave. My plan had been to begin around 6:20 pace and then progress down from there. In the first 13 miles, I largely executed against that plan. I went through the first half in 1:22:30, slightly slower than what I’d hoped but still in the right range. Bottle hand-offs with Skratch and Maurten from my parents and friends every three miles kept me going. The crowds propelled me, and a friend who helped pace had to run in front of me to prevent me from flying up Lafayette Avenue at 5:45 pace. The city was back alive, and every block of Brooklyn felt like a party celebrating its return. As I ran, I’d sometimes cup my hand to my ears, and the crowds would let up a big cheer. Turning into Fort Greene and Clinton Hill, where I live, I let a wide-open grin spread across my face.

I felt strong through Queens and up the Queensboro Bridge. I spotted two of my dearest friends at 71st and 1st just in time to grab a bottle from them. With 9 miles to go, I pushed the pace on First Avenue down to about 6:05. That turns out to have been a mistake. After taking a bottle from Lucia at mile 20 in the Bronx, I sensed fatigue coming. By the time I made it back into Manhattan, I had slowed to about 6:35 pace. The photos tell the story: My form goes from decent (it’s never been great) to downright atrocious, resembling a wounded chicken. I took a bottle from Matt and Lisa at mile 23 and crawled up Fifth Avenue. As I turned into Central Park, I tried to accelerate. But the message from the engine room came back loud and clear: No power. I forced down half of my last gel, and reminded myself that I only had 8 or 9 laps of the track to go. At mile 25, I saw my parents. “Allez, allez, allez!” my dad screamed, and I tried to run a little faster.

By the time I got to Central Park South, I’d stopped looking at my watch. There are lots of quotes I’ve been told to think about when at the end of a race – “Though much is taken, much abides” (Tennyson); “I can’t go on, I’ll go on” (Beckett) – but none came to me. All I could do was put one foot in front of the other.

But despite this, I managed to hang close to my pace and crossed the line in 2:46:21. It wasn’t quite what I’d hoped for, but as I said, New York’s not about the time – it’s about the party. Running is a beautiful sport and the marathon is a spectacle that has no parallel. I was reminded on Sunday that although cycling is my first love, I’ll likely be a runner for life. This surely isn’t my last marathon, and I’m already plotting how to run faster. But for now, I’m going to put my feet up and enjoy some ice cream.

Dana - 2:50:57

This was my third marathon, but the first where I’ve been healthy, injury-free, and ready to handle the distance on my own terms. I was excited to take my first for-real crack at the distance, but intimidated by the ambition of my goal pace. I devised a plan for the race based on my 5k splits, biting off one chunk a time and assigning myself little tasks along the way to distract from the magnitude of the whole thing.

This year I was lucky enough to secure sub-elite status, which meant I’d take a special bus from Midtown to Ocean Breeze, an indoor track and field facility near the start, with the other sub-elite and professional athletes. Undoubtedly the coolest part of the sub-elite experience was getting to relax and prepare for the race alongside the pros. I stretched out my hips and ate a peanut butter sandwich while Olympians lounged on the high-jump mats a few meters away.

Shalane Flanagan sat in the seat behind me on the bus back to the start. Someone asked her what her mantra was for the race, and she responded “calm and strong.” I latched onto this idea to calm my nerves at the start and zone in on my race plan. I found Matt just before the gun went off – my good luck charm and my reminder to have fun with this whole thing. He made me promise to high-five some kids, a reminder to have fun with this. 

My execution was just about perfect for the first 16 miles – I went through the half in 1:24, stayed patient, and picked up bottles from friends, including TBD teammates Lucia, Lisa, and Matt, stationed around the course. I high-fived some kids, hit some tambourines, and smiled a lot. I picked up a bit too much on First Avenue and paid for it on Fifth, where the course kicked my teeth in for the last 4 miles.

I crossed the line in 2:50:57, a 28-minute PB – pretty close to what I’d been aiming for, but beyond anything I could have imagined just a couple of years ago. I’m satisfied with the result, but hungry for more and excited to give it another go after some well-earned time off. The great thing about the marathon is that it’s insurmountable – no matter how well it goes, I will always have more to give.

Scott - 3:26:16

When I shot the NYC marathon in 2018, I was completely blown away by the crowd size, energy, camaraderie between the runners and the way it felt like the whole city embraced the day. After that day I decided that I wanted to run it myself, despite not being a runner at that point. Well 3 years later, I finally got to toe the line of the NYC marathon.

My training leading up to the day had been a bit up and down. I dealt with a few colds and had some issues with my calf and achilles. However the 3 weeks before the marathon I strung together some really solid sessions and had confidence that I could finish the thing in my goal time of 3:10.

The day started stupid early at 3:30am including an extremely restless night with 4:58 of sleep despite going to bed at 9:30pm and the rewinding of daylight savings. I met Matt in the Uber at about 5 before heading to the Staten Island Ferry. I was extremely thankful to be sharing the pre-race experience with Matt, it definitely calmed my nerves during what was a long and cold wait in the start village. At about 8:40 we went our separate ways to our respective start corrals and it was go time!

I found a 3:10 pacer and my aim was to stick to this guy like glue until about the 20-23 mile mark. With Frank Sinatra playing out we headed up the bridge, the first few miles were an absolute blur, I was comfortable, eating and drinking whilst my heart rate was under control. I missed seeing my friends at the end of my street, they were on the other side of the road, I did see Megan even though she didn’t see me, I sent her a text to let her know. The crowds through Fort Greene and Williamsburg were absolutely insane. The borough turned out in force and it was such an unreal experience, the crowds were so deep and hyped, it actually made me feel very emotional.

We left Brooklyn and headed into Queens and this is where everything unravelled for me. I hit the halfway point in 1:34 and then as we got to the bottom of the Pulaski a fellow runner clipped my back foot and down I went. My left hand was sliced pretty badly and I hit my knee really hard. A few times we ran past medical tents I contemplated stopping but kept talking myself out of it. I got over the Queensboro and on to First Avenue and that was the last I saw of my pace group. My knee really started to ache, interrupting my gait and to boot I was also having some stomach issues. I ground my way into the Bronx dropping my pace significantly, getting a boost seeing teamie Lucia, it had felt like so long since I had seen anyone I knew.

By the time I hit Fifth Avenue things were really starting to unravel. I was dealing with constant cramps, brought on by my changed running technique due to my knee. I was doing a combination of walk, shuffle, run, cramp until I ran past Matt and Lisa. Lisa jumped in for a few strides, which was a lot of fun and helped immensely.

At that point I still had 4 miles to go. I knew Megan was at mile 24 so I played a lot of mental games with myself to get to that point. I spotted Megan in the crowd and ran over to her and gave her a hug. She was not expecting it as usually when I do these events I am so in the zone and focused on my time. She saw I was not doing well and was really starting to struggle so she pushed me back out there and said see you at the finish.

The next two miles were very tough, I had cramps that made me stop entirely and they wouldn’t loosen for what felt like minutes at a time. Eventually I was able to keep going and made it to the finish line in 3:26, slower than my goal but boy was I excited to finish. I was so empty and broken at the finish line that I began to cry. The marathon was without a doubt the hardest event I have ever done (sorry cycling but it’s true), I’m not sure if I’ll ever do another one but at least I can call myself a marathoner.