RONAN FAGAN
Athlone native, Lauren Kennedy, now resident in New York, completed her maiden marathon in the ‘Big Apple’ this month, the ‘major’ course which incorporates the five boroughs of the city, evoking a personal sporting memory to last a lifetime.
Speaking to the Athlone Advertiser this week, the former Garrycastle ladies footballer, narrates her marathon experience.
‘As I sat on the grass hill overlooking the portaloos and various gazebos in the morning sun I couldn’t help but compare the marathon starting village in Staten island to Electric Picnic.
The clocks had gone back the night before, so I was feeling a little more rested than I usually would on a Sunday morning. My characteristically laid-back approach to most things meant I made the final Staten Island ferry at 8.45 am by the skin of my teeth.
Fortunately, this meant I didn’t have too much time to wait around and get cold. The national anthem was sung, the cannon was fired and I took off onto the Verrazano bridge. I was in no hurry to break through the crowd – slow and steady had been my planned strategy.
What usually would have been a crowd of 50,000 runners was cut to half that amount. The crowd and anticipation built as we made our way into Brooklyn. I was aware that I could easily lose the run of myself with the rising excitement so I stuck with a pacer who was running a little slower than me until we clocked a few more miles.
A tip I had been given was to wear my name in large letters on my shirt, and it paid off massively. The boost I was given by people I didn’t know screaming my name and words of encouragement was incredible.
At mile eight, Atlantic Avenue, I almost cried with joy when I finally set eyes on my sister who had made a huge sign with obscenely cropped photos of me plastered all over it. Bedford avenue was electric. The crowds overflowed onto the street, just about leaving a gap for the runners to get through. This was my neighbourhood, and the support from my friends that came out to see me was palpable.
Long Island City came and went and before I knew it I was on the ominously quiet Queensboro Bridge. The echo of footsteps and people breathing was gradually superseded by the roar of the crowd as we approached First Avenue, in a transition that I could only imagine compared to running out onto the pitch from the tunnel in a full-capacity Croke Park.
I met several groups of friends of mine, and their dogs, which helped me pick up the pace. I’m very glad I hadn’t researched the map of the race too extensively beforehand, because if I had known that it was actually 70 (mostly uphill ) blocks to the Bronx, I might not have been as willing.
I encountered my pal Maisie on the Willis Avenue Bridge who had started her marathon journey too fast and was now struggling. We ran together for a mile or so, and I sang songs with her to keep us going before she encouraged me to run on.
After a period of subdued crowds in the Bronx, I almost started to lose momentum until I spotted my friend Aisling who ran out onto the road and bear hugged me, screaming words of encouragement.
The road from there to Central Park was dotted with people walking, pulling up with cramps and in one instance, someone being stretchered off to be put in an ambulance and it was a case of mind over matter from that point on.
I have never been so glad and felt so grateful to see so many familiar faces lining the last few miles in Central Park. Niamh Reilly put her tricolour around my shoulders and I struggled on, waving at my friends without managing to make it over to speak to most of them; it cost too much energy.
I remember seeing the sign for mile 25 and converting the remaining distance into kilometres so I could visualise it properly. Autopilot was switched on and took me up the cruel twisting incline and across the finish line, only stopping when a volunteer in a white coat said “Congratulations on finishing the marathon!”.
A poncho was wrapped around me and sealed at my neck, a bag of snacks to refuel thrust into my arms, and we all limped out, roaming the streets like zombies to meet our families, friends and significant others.
I video called my family who were all together with our neighbour and my honorary granny, Rose Reid, still an avid runner herself at 81.
I never understood the feeling that people spoke of upon finishing until I had done it myself and I already cannot wait to have another stab at it next year!’
