I woke up at 5 am yesterday morning without an alarm, wide-eyed and full of optimism. It felt almost wrong that the day was finally here. I had been looking forward to this day since I first watched the 2006 ING New York City marathon from the lead vehicle. From that day I was hooked on the marathon and couldn’t wait to run myself and test myself through the five boroughs.

After doing some light stretching and eating my typical pre-race nut butter sandwich and Cytomax protein shake I headed down to catch the elite athlete bus that would bus us to the staging area on Staten Island. The bus ride was the quiet before the storm. It was quite a spectacle arriving at Staten Island with the masses pushing towards the race start. The enormity of the race I was about to partake in was setting in.

An hour before the start my teammate Meb and I headed out for a 15-minute warm-up jog. Our spirits were high and our conversation was casual as we shared a few laughs. We knew what lied ahead and that the best way to prepare for what we were about to put our bodies through was to be as relaxed as possible.

The cannon fired at 9:40 catching us all off guard and we were off, heading up the steepest incline in the race over the first mile. During the first mile everyone is checking out everyone else trying to decide how to work the opening stages of the race. The pace was slow so we had many runners in our lead group. A Moroccan runner was out front surging back and forth as I checked on my teammates Meb and Dan to see where they were in the field.

My plan was to wait through the opening miles of the race and then make sure the pace was honest. After a slow opening mile we had picked it up significantly and were starting to run some sub 5-minute miles. I was hoping for a fast early pace and I was getting my wish. Although we weren’t running very even splits the pace felt fast enough to me, especially considering the pestering wind that seemed to always be in our face no matter which way we were running.

The first half of the marathon is usually fairly insignificant. It just sets up the second half of the race. My goal is to always come through an easy as possible. I had taken a few short stints at the front but was trying to conserve energy by staying at the back of the pack. This was one of my big mistakes.

The back of the pack is only a good place to sit if you are either supremely confident or feeling really good because it is the easiest place to fall off from. When guys make moves off the front it is very difficult to react off the back of the pack because you are already a couple strides behind. It takes a tremendous amount of energy to catch up.

As 1st Ave approached we all knew what was about to hit us: big crowds and a big surge. I relaxed as much as I could coming off the bridge in anticipation. My plan was to cover the surge to an extent using the next couple of miles to catch back up if the leaders were going to run a ridiculously fast mile split going down 1st Ave. As it turned out the leaders didn’t run too crazy of a mile and I should have just covered it. Instead I let a gap form and was beginning to struggle to make up the difference.

I watched our group of 10 get strong out over the next couple of miles and the leaders began to pull away. At that point I was going through a bit of a rough patch and was doing my best to try and stay mentally positive, running my own race. The undulating course was taking its toll on my body as I pounded towards the Bronx.

Over the last 10k I made it my goal to let out whatever was inside of me. I had trained very hard for this moment. Too hard to let it completely slip by despite not having the run I had hoped for. This is when the battle becomes about personally overcoming your own body and not giving in to the desire to completely fold when the chips are down.

I worked my way from 10th after 1st Ave up to fourth by the time I reached the park. At mile 25 I was hurting. Despite my pain I was curious how my teammate Meb was doing up with the leaders but had no way of knowing until someone from the crowd yelled to me that Meb was going to win. I smiled. It had been a long road for Meb. He deserved to win after the many ups and downs he had endured during his career. He is a great guy that has been like a brother to me and taught me so much about the marathon. He has shown me what the heart of a champion is like through the good and bad.

I was glad to be done when I crossed the finish line. It had been a tough day for me. Certainly not my finest day but I had finished the journey the best I could and certainly learned many lessons on the road. When I finished is when the disappointment began to set in. I had high hopes for this race and higher hopes that my fitness was much better than what I showed this day. However, even though the journey of this day was over I live to see another day and another opportunity.