Sunday, November 18, 2007

A Lesson in Humility

Bringing it Into Perspective With the Help of Olympic Runners

Like the student who graduates valedictorian yet finds herself as simply average once she arrives at Harvard, if you’ve ever run a marathon the size and prestige of the annual race in New York City, you know firsthand the contrast between the months of training and marking of personal achievements, and the humbling experience of race day among 38,000 runners just like, or even better, than you.

At your job as a nurse, a trader on Wall Street or math teacher in the public schools, among a circle of non-running friends and family, you stand out. People who know you are impressed by your discipline and commitment to fitness. On those dark, pre-dawn runs in rain and cold or after a long day of work facing the heat and humidity of summer in the city, you feel strong and proud, invincible even; you're a running warrior. You feel powerful and on top of the food chain.

But on race day, among the herd of other runners – men and women (even the occasional adolescent), of various shapes, sizes and walks of life, all of whom have run long miles and faced the same weather and suffering as you - suddenly you are not so singular or warrior-like.

You console yourself with the thought that you’ll finish hours before some of them, especially the ones who do more walking than running, but that consolation is, you realize, limited and embarrassing in its effort to soothe your ego when another large group of runners not only matches you but surges past before you’ve covered the 26.2 miles of the race. Face it: you are what the running community calls a middle of the pack runner. Not humiliating, but certainly not your proudest acknowledgment.

For those who run for a living, literally paying their bills off the quick pace of their steps, a race of the caliber of the New York City Marathon reinforces the experience of their countless hours of training. Unlike middle of the packers, the fleet-footed get a week’s stay in the official race hotel, the New York Hilton. The elite receive free meals, private tours of the Museum of Modern Art, free massage and personalized services.

Lest jealousy creeps in, feel assured that you too can share in this prize. You just have to be fast. Very fast.

If you can average sub-five-minute miles over the course of 26, you too can be shuttled on chartered bus to the race start and enjoy a ratio of 1 port-a-john to every five runners (as opposed to the rest of the pack, who suffer a ratio closer to 1:300 in the cold, anxious hours on Staten Island). If an elite woman, you get to start the race 35 minutes before everyone else, and if male, you line up at the front, separate from the general population, and actually race when the start gun fires.

Go ahead, log 125-plus mile weeks, all year long, make running the highest priority of your life, more important than obligations to family and friends, with the definition of “party” meaning going to bed at 10pm instead of 8. Then you can run on a course lined with hundreds of thousands of spectators cheering “Paula” or “Go Meb!” When you're a pro, your singularity extends to the name emblazoned on your race bib, replacing the five-digit numbers the anonymous thousands wear.

And when you break the tape in 2:09 or, if a woman, 2:23, you, too, can take a victory job back across the finish line cloaked in the flag of your country that has been draped across your shoulders by admiring fans.

Even if you place second and your name is Gete Wami, you can celebrate in the knowledge that in clinching the inaugural World Marathon Majors you have a cool half-million to take back home with you. Mayor Bloomberg will meet you at the winner’s podium where you’ll be handed keys to your latest prize of German engineering (Benz, BMW) or a Prius while wearing a crown of ivy and Tiffany trophy held high you smile for the one hundred reporters and photographers.

The shimmering space-blanket, distributed to keep runners warm after their race, is one of the few things you share in common with the other 38,000; only yours is perfunctory as you quickly re-suit in your sponsor’s (Nike, Adidas, Brooks, Asics) branded uniform, are handed a snack bag and quickly chauffeured back to the Hilton.

You have no time to catch a chill or stiffen up, for the next few hours include a shower, nap and massage. If not elite, you and the other 38,000 hug your space blanket close to your shivering body as you shuffle through yet more corrals to find your New York Road Runner-supplied plastic drawstring bags labeled with that same anonymous number that matches your bib. If you’re lucky, you’ll not have stiffened so much that you can still navigate the stairs at Columbus Circle down to your subway track, where hundreds of other pedestrians are also wearing a medal necklace and silver blanket, equally exultant.

Those who have traveled from various states or points on the globe (this is one of the most international fields in the entire sport, with runners representing more than 50 countries) will gratefully order room service when they finally get in from the cold. Locals might find a home-cooked meal waiting for them back in Brooklyn or Queens, prepared by their adoring I-could-never-have-done-what-you-did fan club.

Meanwhile, the elite, many of whom were not only invited but were also paid to show up on the start line, will attend a private award ceremony (more Tiffany plates in the iconic blue boxes) and then be chauffeured, yet again, to the VIP dinner on the waterfront in Chelsea.

At table with fellow Olympians, dining on caviar (try explaining the appeal and expense of caviar to an African) and filet mignon, a handful of marathoners with body fat percentages lower than the number of fingers on one hand, take a few sips of wine and a few bites of chocolate cake to celebrate another day on the job.

In the flickering light of candles around an elegantly laid table, a mere eight hours after racing through the streets of the five boroughs, the elite have one thought in common: “Tomorrow I’ll jog easy for a couple of hours, and maybe the next day too, but then it’s back to work. I’ve got another marathon to do.” And so continues the humble but gifted life of an elite long-distance runner.

Friday, November 9, 2007

Street Art in Long Island City

"Mine is the largest art project in the world - bigger than Christo and the Gates in Central Park," Richard tells me on a street corner in Long Island City.

Unlike the 7,500 orange flags hung in Central Park in 2005 that Richard is referring to, his canvas is the City's streets, his broom his brush, his palette the color of people's lives.

A transplant from Brooklyn, Richard derives his inspiratin from a friend, a woman he couldn't help who died at the hands of her abusive boyfriend.

Speaking of the tears he shed over her death, he laments, "I could have filled the East River three more inches." Out of that loss, he decided a few years ago to create and man a telephone hotline for women who might be ready to leave violent situations.

The Sky Blue Foundation, as he's taken to calling his project, has a staff of one without an office, promoting a hotline that doesn't always have a phone connected to the number. The last time it was disconnected, Richard was laid up in a hospital bed for injuries sustained during a fall while working as a window washer.

While the lawsuit is pending, Richard sweeps the streets of this industrial neighborhood sandwiched between the East River and Newtown Creek, which separates the area from Greenpoint, Brooklyn. In an effort to beautify the neighborhood and draw attention to his domestic violence project, he sweeps, cleans windows, even paints the parking meters bright, decorative colors. This last artistic act rewards him with fines from the Department of Transportation, which cites him for defacing public property.

The streets are his urban garden and the work, he says, "fuels my spiritual growth" while helping him maintain his sobriety. He's entered into a symbiotic relationship with the owners of the local bodegas, mom-and-pop bakeries and gas station who in exchange for his cleaning-up the streets and beautifying their neighborhood provide him with windows, walls and fences to hang his hand-lettered posters advertising his hotline. They also give him hot meals, a couch to sleep on and, most importantly, a phone to go with the domestic violence call-in number.

In the past two years, Richard has fielded a handful of phone calls, often from the same women, one of whom has successfully left her abusive partner. He hopes to continue the trend, and believes that if he had a larger pallette to work from (more publicity and larger bilboards), he'd help save even more women. He says it's the least he could do for his friend who didn't make it out alive.

Monday, November 5, 2007

Perfect Day for a Marathon

The 2007 ING New York City Marathon
[note: these and more photographs by Courtenay Morgan Redis can be found on my flickr page]


It is a morning that runners call perfect: crisp autumn air smelling of bengay under sun-filled skies. It must be the first Sunday of November in New York City, as there are more than 38,000 of them lined up on the entrance to the Verrazano Narrows Bridge in Staten Island.

First run as laps around Central Park in 1970, the now famous race spread out from Manhattan's center stage to wind its way through all five boroughs beginning in 1976. While the claim is ubiquitous in the race's promotion, it's a bit of a stretch to say the ING New York City Marathon travels through all five boroughs considering the visit to Staten Island is really all in the pre-race. Here the army of runners, volunteers and sprinkling of spectators stretch, wait to go to the bathroom, get chilled, get anxious, wait to get bagels and coffee, pace, go to big-tent church services, and then wait some more (even after the start gun fires) before finally stepping across the start line. Very little marathon running goes on in Staten Island, but the longest time in the marathon is spent there, it's true. Time spent waiting to just get on with it.

Some of the most famous photographs of this great race are taken from helicopters and other high vantage points as the mass of runners fill the Verrazano left to right, front to back. When was the last time you saw over a mile of runners, six-lanes wide, crossing a river at once? It's a grand spectacle, and one I've only seen from the runner's perspective...one day I'll make sure to shoot from the bird's eye view.

This year, I skipped the early morning bus ride to Staten Island, skipped the long warm-up along 4th Avenue in Brooklyn, toyed with the idea of catching the elite runners in Williamsburg (which reminds me of that great ad Asics created of the marathoner getting his cup of water from Orthodox Jews...see a blog I found that contains a photo of this "NYC is my running partner" ad) and joined the race in my beloved Queens. Exiting the 7 train at Hunter's Point at around 9am, I catch the majority of the wheelchair and handcycle racers (a division of the race that was introduced in 2000) come through at about the 14 mile mark.

While there hunting for a good vantage point, I record an interview with a local who, while pulling his own life together, has a mission of helping women in domestic violence situations. His method: he cleans the streets. Claiming that his is the largest work of art in the world, "bigger than Christo's," referring to self-financed artist millionaires Christo and Jean-Claude who in 2005 staged a public exhibition in Central Park called The Gates. By sweeping and hosing down, and decorating parking meters, Richard makes friends with local merchants who then allow him to advertise a domestic violence support telephone hotline (which he mans and a local grocer pays for). Look for a future post about Richard on this blog.

It is working to photograph the wheelchair and handcycle racers as they rolled by the subway entrance, since both the subject and the context work close to the ground, but I know I wanted something else for the elite runners. Something quintessential Queens. There isn't a ton of diverse-looking people on the sidewalks since there aren't a whole lot of people on the sidewalks in that part of Queens, period. I get a few shots of runners approaching the Citicorp building in Long Island City (the tallest building in this county), and a few with the Con Edison powerplant smoke stacks in the background. All in all, though, I am disappointed not to have a better idea of how to capture the marathon in my favorite borough.

Before long, an entourage of flashing lights and sirens on both two and four wheels blasts through and soon the unmistakable sound of a helicopter overhead alerts that the women's race leaders are fast approaching. My heart begins to race with excitement and suddenly I am second-guessing everything: did I pick the right spot? should I go shallow to blur the background or deep to capture some of this industrial neighborhood? shoot from the street or find a high platform? I can vaguely hear the band playing in the distance, so the women must be practically around the corner. No time for indecision. I kneel down, focus into a shady part of the street and choose an aperture of F4.

The women's professional field, which starts 35 minutes before the rest of the pack, includes two-time defending champion Jelena Prokopcuka of Latvia, and her nearest rival for the inaugural World Marathon Majors title (and a prize purse of a cool half-million), Gete Wami of Ethiopia.

It is thrilling to be within a foot of Olympians like world marathon record holder Paula Radcliffe, and close on her heels the great Gete Wami, who blaze past me on 44th Road where I am the sole spectator. Following close behind come a pack of three including two-time defending champion Jelena Prokopcuka of Latvia, World champion Catherine Ndereba of Kenya, and two-time Russian Olympian Lidiya Grigoryeva.

In my love of the sport and admiration of the women, I almost miss out on the photography side I am so busy cheering and clapping! Since I am making confessions here already, I'll admit that I greedily pocket the discarded arm warmer of Grigoryeva and glove of Ndereba. I may not wash these...ever.

Radcliffe, in her first race since giving birth to daughter Isla in January, finally shook off Wami in the final 500 meters when, after attempting a number of surges broke free after Wami made one attempt to surge and faltered. Radcliffe earned $130,000 for winning, plus another $40,000 for a time bonus. Wami won $65,000 for second place plus a $35,000 time bonus.

Wami's loss today is cushioned by her clinch of the premier of the World Marathon Majors, for which she earns an additional $500,000. [The World Marathon Majors is a championship racing series that is points-based, awarded every two years and includes marathons in Boston, London, Berlin, Chicago and New York (and the World Championships an the Olympics, depending on the year.]

After the professional women pass through, I know I have a short while to find a new vantage point before the elite men will come by. Walking just a few blocks further up course towards the Queensboro Bridge, which marks miles 15-16 more or less, I find a mailbox to stand on and a view of the smoke stacks in the background.

This Sunday is no different than the previous 36 years of the race except for one mark of distinction: the nation's top distance runners raced the day before in the U.S. Olympic Trials - Men's Marathon from Rockefeller Plaza through Times Square and five times around Central Park. The field does not lack for talent, however, both local and international.

Kenyan Martin Lel would later outkick Abderrahim Goumri of Morocco, 2:09:04 to 2:09:16. Lel and Goumri had dueled similarly in April at London, when Lel sprinted past Goumri (in his first-ever marathon) to win by three seconds.

But at the time they speed past me (at a pace of about 4:25/mile) they are still surrounded by a group of about 15 runners that includes Kenyan Rogers Rop, South African Hendrick Ramaala plus New York first-timer Kenyan James Kwamba. Olympic and World Marathon Champion Stefano Baldini of Italy, also in the pack, would later place fourth in the day's race. The defending champion, Marilson Gomes dos Santos (Brazil), hangs on to the back of this prestigious pack who go by so quickly I only know what I've seen when I later review the images stored in my camera.

I catch the first pack of men here, and then climb down (as difficult as climbing up given that my left foot is stuck in a boot cast while my fractured heal heals) and clumped across the street to a clear-view corner. I kneel down on the curb just in time to see the chase group of four Ethiopian runners who train with the Westchester Track Club, including Demesse Teferea, Genna Tufa, Kassahun Kabiso, Worku Beyi and Derese Deniboba.

Close to 11:20am and I've already seen the best of the best fly through Queens. At the rate they're running, I may not catch them again if I try to make it to the Bronx, which was my rough plan going into the day.

Hopping on an E train into Manhattan, and waiting an interminably long time for a 6 train uptown, I decide to cut my losses. By the time I head out of the subway at 86th Street, I know I've missed the leaders running on the east side and, instead, head west to Central Park so I can have time to limp over and maybe even find a clear shot at around mile 24. To the Aussie I meet on the subway, hats off. Your encouragement allowed me to make the right choice and I only missed Paul and Gete by the time I made it to the park.

I most want to cheer on Ethiopian Atalelech Ketema, running her first marathon, and in contention to be the day's fastest female New Yorker (she lives in the Bronx with her husband Fitsum and 20-month old Nathaniel). She ended up the second local female in a time of 2:45 and change. Not bad for a first timer!

In addition to Ketema, I caught all of the lead men and my pals from the Westchester Track Club who placed 1-4 among locals. Tefera, Tufa and Kabiso won some decent wages for their high showing. With their top placing, the men defended their club title; and the women's Westchester Track Club placed third in their club competition with the help of Ketema, Brooke Garden and Cindy Pomeroy.

A perfect day for a marathon, indeed.

Saturday, November 3, 2007

"Triumph and Tragedy" at the Men's Olympic Martahon Trials, NYC

Hall's Trials record marred by death of friend Shay

By Joe Battaglia, NBCOlympics.com

These and more photographs by Courtenay Morgan Redis

He has been called the next great U.S. marathoner. Now he can be called an Olympian.

After running with the pack for 17 miles, Ryan Hall pulled away en route to winning the U.S. Olympic Team Trials marathon in a record 2:09:02. The time by Hall, who had never run a marathon before April, shattered the previous Trials record by one minute and 17 seconds.

Dathan Ritzenhein, a 2004 Olympic in the 10,000m, finished comfortably in second in 2:11:07, a personal best by over three minutes. Brian Sell placed third in 2:11:40 to grab the final qualifying spot for Beijing. It will be the first Olympic marathon for all three.

Their jubilation was soon replaced by sadness when it was announced that Ryan Shay, 28, had died. Shay, a 2002 Notre Dame graduate running in his second U.S. Olympic Marathon Trials, collapsed just 30-minutes into the race, and was taken by ambulance to Lenox Hill Hospital where he was pronounced dead at 8:46 a.m.

"Today was a dream come true for me," Hall said. "I've been dreaming about this moment for 10 years. But as great as the moment is, my heart and my thoughts are with Ryan Shay and his family."

Shay collapsed on the second lap near East 75th St. on the East side of Central Park, about 5 1/2 miles into the race. At the 5k mark (3.1 miles), he was in 21st place, part of a large pack between 16:44 and 17:02.

"We have absolutely tragic news confirmed that Ryan Shay passed away today," Mary Wittenberg, CEO of the New York Road Runners Club said. "We ask you to join us in extending our very deepest condolences to Alicia, to Ryan's family and the Notre Dame running community. It's certainly not the way we expected any part of the race to go."

According to Runner’s Gazette photographer Clay Shaw, who was nearby, emergency medical personnel responded swiftly, using a defibrillator to try to revive him.

"He just hit the ground," Shaw said.

Wittenberg said Shay received immediate medical attention.

"There were several layers of medical response," she said. "It was very quick."

A recreational runner died during last month's Chicago Marathon. This death, however, was especially startling considering Shay was an elite athlete.

USA Track and Field CEO Craig Masback called Shay's death a "tremendous loss for the sport"

"We all are devastated over Ryan's death," he said. "He was a tremendous champion who was here today to pursue his dreams. We are heartbroken."

Shay, a native of Ypsilanti, Mich., won the 2001 NCAA 10,000m title at Notre Dame, the first national individual title won at the school. He was a favorite going into the 2004 trials but was hampered by a hamstring strain and finished 23rd. He was the 2003 U.S. marathon champion and was third at this year's U.S. 25K championships. He also won the U.S. half marathon in 2003 and 2004, and took the 2004 U.S. 20K road racing title, making him a four-time national champion.

It was in New York two years ago while watching the marathon that Shay met his future wife, Alicia Craig, also an elite distance runner. Alicia was a two-time NCAA champion and the collegiate 10,000-meter record-holder during her days at Stanford, and was hoping to make it to Beijing in the women's 10,000m.

Shay and Craig were married on July 7. Sara Hall, Ryan Hall's wife, was a college teammate at Stanford with Craig and was a bridesmaid in their wedding.

"He had an incredible ability to push himself to the limit," Sara Hall said of Shay, with whom she and her husband used to train.

"It's a big loss for the running community," said 2004 women's marathon Olympic bronze medalist Deena Kastor, who once trained with Shay. "It's a day we should be celebrating. It has cast a pall. The distance running community is very close."

"If you probably asked him if there was any way he wanted to go, it was out on the race course," said Terrence Mahon, who coached Shay in Mammoth Lakes, Calif.

Shay had high hopes entering these Trials. In 2004, he ran a personal best of 2:14:08 while finishing ninth at the ING New York City Marathon, and was looking forward to running in blustery conditions.

"The heat and I do not get along," Shay said. "Now if it’s cold that day, then that works to my benefit. I know a lot of runners who don’t like the cold, but I love the cold. Hopefully, the weather will be beneficial. If it’s weather that I can run well in, 2:11 or 2:12 is not out of my range."

Hall, 25, had no problem getting under that time range. Hall broke away from the leading pack of five runners with a 4:32 18th mile, believed to be the fastest ever run in Central Park. Hall continued to run sub-five minute splits the remainder of the race. He looked relaxed and fresh the entire race, pumping his fists, high-fiving spectators, and bellowing as he drew closer to the finish.

"I'm just thrilled with the day the Lord gave me and thrilled to be part of this Olympic team," Hall said. "I was thinking about the Olympics when I was out there on that last lap and the fitness it will take. The last mile, I knew I was going to be OK. I know I can run considerably faster. There's definitely more gears in there. I'll get to test those in Beijing."

When Hall made his move, none of the other five runners was able to go with him. Although he couldn't keep Hall's blistering pace, Ritzenhein was able to separate himself from the remaining runners over the final eight miles, building a 30-second lead over the third-place contenders.

"My hat's off to Ryan," Ritzenhein said. "That time is amazing on this course."

Brian Sell was unable to keep up with the race leaders early in the race and it appeared his hopes of making the Olympic team were slim. But Sell, who said before the race that he would quit competitive distance running if he did not qualify for Beijing, surged passed Daniel Browne with about six miles to go to punch his Olympic ticket.

"The original plan was to let the field determine the pace for the first couple of miles," Sell said. "When we were out in 11 flat for two miles, I knew I Had to keep it honest to have a chance at all. Honestly, I was trying to run around 5 flat [per mile]. I didn't have too many miles above 5 flat. That tells you how fast these guys were up front. I was just fortunate to pick up the carnage from (Hall and Ritzenhein)."

Khalid Khannouchi, the 35-year-old former world-record-holder who has never made an Olympic team, finished fourth in 2:12:34, nearly a minute behind Sell. Khannouchi, who has battled injuries, could still earn a spot on the squad if Ritzenhein later qualifies in the 10,000 meters and chooses to compete in that race instead in Beijing.

Meb Keflezighi, who won silver at the 2004 Olympics in Athens, was in contention for the third and final qualifying spot for more than half of the race, but faded late and finished eighth in 2:15:09.

"It was rough," Keflezighi said. "I would like to have made the team. At about 1:19, both of my calves cramped up. My breathing was great, but I couldn't go on."

Alan Culpepper, the 2004 Olympic Trials marathon winner, was forced to pull out of the race with cramping in both hamstrings.

"Within the first four miles, both of my hamstrings had the same sensation I usually get with 4 miles to go," Culpepper said. "I was baffled. I kept trying to work through it, but I just never felt right."

The Associated Press contributed to this report.