After snaking about in Fort Wadsworth up on to the roadway leading directly onto the Verrazano Bridge, we finally can see the start line (the arch of balloons ahead). To the left VIPs cheered us on.
On the right some guys in suits and scantily clad women cheered, danced and waved.
The first mile rises up onto the bridge. I stayed with Richard for this mile. The muscles on the front of my lower legs burned and I realized I’d dropped into race walking form. I felt rather worried at feeling distress during mile one.
However, I remembered that this sort of strain can be worked through. Mile two went a bit better. Here in the distance one can see lower Manhattan. Miles north of there is the finish of the marathon.
Overhead helicopters hovered. I stopped to look South over the edge of the bridge at the surrounding mouth of the harbor. What a vista.
Coming off the bridge I heard people call “Schatzi” and I nodded back and sometimes waved. Spectators do that—look for names to call out. Here I caught up with a group leading an official 5:30 pace, a finish time much better than I expected. Yet I had no trouble race walking this pace and stuck with them until they slowed down.
I pressed on. Further up on 4th Avenue in Brooklyn I encountered a blind Japanese woman, an Achilles athlete, with her escorts. I paced off them for a while.
Looking up 4th Avenue. It had become a lovely day, with a great temperature for a marathon.
Official photos at a 5K mark on 4th Avenue taken by professional photographers. I've put hairline borders on these “official” photos. The mats pictured contain sensors that record the passing of electronic chips attached to the laces of each runners shoe.
Half way up 4th Avenue another Achilles Athlete passed me—I recognized the red shirt as he buzzed past my shoulder and could see nothing wrong with him. A moment later I looked down and saw he had no lower legs. Amazing prosthetics allowed him to bound along.