Snipers overhead, helicopters circling and thousands of people ready to charge across a bridge. Just a regular day in the city.At 5.30am on Sunday, local time, myself and David got out of bed to get ready for a very long day. Our bus left for Staten Island an hour later and en route I sent a quote from Keanu Reeves in The Replacements to some friends, it's the title above minus the little bit I put at the end.We had to hang about for 3 hours on Staten, fighting off the cold and nerves with coffee, bagels and Gatorade. We gathered into our coral, at the back of the third and final wave of runners as the snipers above looked down. This isn't Dublin anymore. We wished each other well and I gave some final words of encouragement to the rookies around me."Pain is just weakness leaving the body," I quipped. If this is the case then I had plenty of pain to expunge. It would later turn out that these words actually helped one of the runners, so that was a pleasant surprise.David, who I was sharing a room with, took off running with two of the other lads from our group. I stuck to my plan of walking the first mile. As a result, with less than 800 yards of the race underway, there was widespread panic in Paddy Power's headquarters.Okay I have nothing to back that up but at this stage I was just fifth from the back of the field. If I finished last then the odds of 200/1 on my picking up the wooden spoon would have proven quite generous. Ne'er the less I stuck to the plan. Walk the first, run the second. Walk the odds, run the evens.The bridge from Staten was over a mile and a half long. With no crowds allowed and with my fear of heights this wasn't a pleasant experience.As it ended and I approached the 2 mile mark I realised that sure enough, there was no marker at the 1 mile point and all I had done was walk so far. New tactic, walk the evens, run the odds.I was off and running, blowing kisses at construction workers as I entered Brooklyn. The crowd had a huge impact as I tore through the next mile. On and off, run and walk, I kept it up. The people roared me on and I responded vocally and with my feet. The race was truly on.It was after all a race, pride was at stake. Craddock had set a time to beat and I already felt behind. The people of New York proved a huge difference maker. There were even a few Obama supporters out and I yelled "Yes we can" at them every time, which you can imagine garnered a positive response.Run and walk, on and off, it continued and as I saw the clocks I adjusted for my wave's start and knew the pendulum had swung. Around 7 miles my left foot felt a little sore in the shoe but the pain eased quickly.Bands and well wishers lined the way, including one group that held up a sign offering free High Fives. Well I couldn't turn that down. Booya.By halfway I knew I was near by personal best for the half marathon and well ahead of John's time. I had to dial it down it gear now. Running was proving tough and I needed a break, over the next three miles through Queens I knew I had lost some of my advantage.It was time for a miracle mile. I knew that to make up the lost ground I'd need one more running mile and it was only going to come sooner not later. On the 17th I charged, down the bridge, around the corner and into Manhattan."Lets hear some love for the Irish" I yelled at the mob with tricolours that awaited, the responded well. As I rounded onto First Avenue I saw Martin, our organiser, fiddling with his hair. I shouted at him to sort it out though he would later claim it was time to keep warm.I knew what to expect from the avenues in Manhattan. The previous day was the 2.5 mile long International Friendship Run. Despite sounding like an event the Care Bears would run in, it did serve the useful purpose of showing me how undulating the avenues on the island.That was playtime, this was business time, I kept powering through until the mile marker when I slowed to a walk again. A new plan, walk the uphills and flats, run the downhills. On one of the downhills there was a guy around Craddock's size with a different banner.'Free Hugs' it read.Oh what a foolish boy. One patented Emmet Ryan Bearhug later and he weakly uttered "Thanks".As I tired on First Ave I opted to hold off on any more running until the Bronx. Once there I continued the plan of running the downhills. There was less than a mile on this borough, the only part of the course in the mainland US, before returning to Manhattan.Harlem greeted my arrival with tremendous cheers, I pressed on towards Midtown. No longer able to run the downhills it was merely a matter of protecting the lead I had.Approaching 23 miles I was nearly crying tears of joy. I welled up thinking of the people I do this for. I have two very dear friends with Cystic Fibrosis that are my inspiration when races get tough and questions are asked. This race had been relatively easy so far but I had to hold myself together.It wasn't over yet, there was business to be done. I began the long way round central park singing along to my iPod. Abide With Me was swiftly followed by Flower of Scotland. I really don't care what the locals thought of my singing but I know it caught some runners off guard. Scotland the Brave was next as I rounded the corner into the Park.My vocal performance ended just after 24 miles, to the mercy of all no doubt. As I exited the park there was just over one mile to go, but there were still two very important persons to greet. Greg and John both received high fives from me as I marched towards the final turn before the return into the park.As I re-entered Central Park I punched the air, there was fire in my belly and the crowd loved it. Hell they loved all 40,000 of us. They were like one giant embodiment of the Battle Hymn of the Republic (which oddly isn't on my iPod) all day long.The finish approached and it was time to truly milk it. Once again I started blowing kisses to all and sundry in the crowd before raising my hands to the heavens, like some South American footballer, as I crossed the finish line.The poor woman that bestowed me with my finishers medal probably wasn't expecting that hug either. Ah well. And so it was over. The wall never hit and no harm done save for the usual stiffness.You already know the rest, I hammered my PB and beat Craddock by 12 minutes...Oh like it was going to end that easy!Every year the race report entry brings the pain and we aren't going to disappoint you now. Remember that pain in my foot I mentioned early? Yes that was a tease to a later part in the tale.It turns out pulling off a Compeed is a bad idea. So much so that when I pulled one off the dark red blister the day after the race (it was very beefy, nearly black) that it took a lot of skin with it and gave me the heebie jeebies.The wound is (it's still there) 2 inches long and 1 inch wide and is right on the arch of the foot. By Monday evening the pain was so bad that standing was agonising and walking was the opposite of pleasant. With infection looking likely and no improvement whatsoever, I went to the hospital on Tuesday morning."Oh that looks bad. You're going to be in agony," said the first doctor. Well thank you ma'am, I know I've been stored in the cardiac ward for some reason but that doesn't mean you have to induce a coronary through fear just to make me feel at home.On the upside there was no infection. The dude in the bed beside me meanwhile had what sounded an awful lot like an actual heart attack while queuing up to vote. He was a determined chap and refused to go to hospital for 90 minutes until he got to cast his vote for Obama."That's huge, and very beefy. You will be in agony sir," how about that for a second opinion that I never even asked for. At least the third doctor had a look of total disinterest in her face and didn't say a word.She probably wasn't a doctor though. Her tells were that she wasn't faking an interested look, which coupled with her looking fairly young meant the best bet is that she still had a couple of years to go in Med School. By graduation she'll learn to fake attentiveness.So I was patched up and sent on my merry way without anything to ease the pain. They told me to take some Tylenol for that, and I knew I'd need it as my foot was killing me. I needed to move hotels first however so I hailed a cab and head for the Chelsea Star on 30th St.I open the door, a heavy bag in either hand and a throbbing pain in my foot, and all the colour leaves my face. There was a flight of stairs to climb.The End.Labels: ailment, betting, CF Ireland, five boroughs, iPod, marathon, new york, new york city, odds, paddy power, race, recovery, STIG, transatlantic challenge
