The Wonder Woman and the magic of New York City

I

Finally, the day arrived to run the New York marathon.

The race that receives more than 50 thousand runners from 130 countries and for which you must register nine months before the day of the starting gun; the competition for which you surely won't get picked in the lottery to run and must secure your place through a travel agency; the test for which you must wake up at 5 in the morning to start running five and a half hours later; the event for which you organize yourself to travel and which is no guarantee it will take place.

In the TCS New York City Marathon you can find stories like that of a runner who loses his wedding ring in the surroundings of Central Park, mobilizes through social media several of the 10 thousand volunteers participating, and finds the ring hours later. That is part of the magic of New York that sometimes becomes miraculous. The marathon that surprises participants.

It was supposed that I wouldn't run in this city this year, it wasn't in the plans and I came to think that I wasn't even interested in running it after the cancellation I experienced two years ago. In 2014 I would be in Big Sur and Chicago, two marathons in the year. What more could I ask?

To be clear: New York was not on the agenda. Simply the registration for the marathon lottery that I don't remember when or why I did, favored me and I won my number for the New York race. When I read the acceptance message, which I saw 12 hours after receiving it and pulled out of my email trash, I realized that I was indeed interested in running the marathon in that city and that Chicago and any other marathon on the planet could wait. You can't say no to the New York marathon.

II

The marathon route to reach the starting line started at 5 in the morning: walking to the subway station that would take us to the ferry to then disembark in Staten Island; taking the bus for a 15-minute ride and walking to the park where we would wait for almost three hours before the starting gun, in my case, for the second wave of the race.

This time there was an extra ingredient: a strong wind that blew that morning caused the wind chill to drop almost five degrees and we had to wait for the gun at a temperature close to 0 degrees Celsius; the 40-kilometer per hour gusts made the wheelchair competition shorten from 26.2 to 23.2 miles.

We made good use of the waiting time. Vero got two cardboard boxes that served for us to sit on one and with the other we made a wall that sheltered us for a couple of hours. In that time, Vero did her makeup to complete her "catrina" (Day of the Dead skeleton) costume. Her face took a back seat and on the streets, while she ran, New Yorkers baptized her as "Lady Flowers". If spectators had known that just two weeks before she had run the Chicago marathon, Vero's nickname would have been "Wonder Woman".

III

When you arrive at Staten Island to take the start, it is suggested to wear thermal clothing, gloves, hat, a sweatshirt or jacket (or both), pants, and any other accessory to warm up the body. All the clothes will be left along the way and will be donated to people in need. That year 26 tons of clothing were collected.

The start of this marathon is spectacular. It begins on the Verrazano Bridge to reach Brooklyn, the second of the five neighborhoods that are covered in the 42.195-kilometer route. We got to cross the bridge on the second floor and that's where the battle against the kilometers and the special guest of that day, the wind, began.

Since it was Vero's second marathon in days and for me the first after a break in training, the challenge was to reach the finish line and leave any personal best for another moment. Therefore, again, I carried my cell phone to take photos and my video camera to record some aspects of the race. The camera battery didn't last the marathon and died right at the 21-kilometer mark. I ran the entire route with camera in hand.

Vero and I accompanied each other for the first 12 kilometers and then I lost her. She lowered her pace to save energy and I continued at my pace. At a safe trot.

It's difficult to locate a section of the course where you won't find people screaming to support or giving loud applause to those who invade the streets of the city. Brooklyn is one of the neighborhoods with the greatest diversity of cultures, you can see businesses from almost anywhere in the world and there are several streets where the asphalt disappears due to the number of runners and people who want to be part of the marathon. It's estimated that the marathon brings together 2 million visitors.

IV

The course takes you from Brooklyn to Queens, the third community and where the Queensboro Bridge comes alive to take runners to Manhattan. They say that part of the marathon is one of the most complicated due to the constant uphill it presents, at mile 15 of the race. The complicated part of this stretch is that you must overtake people who stop their step and start walking and others who make a complete stop to step aside from the path and contemplate front the island of Manhattan.

Although this stretch has its degree of difficulty, exiting the bridge to take First Avenue is one of the most emotional moments of this race, because hundreds of people choose this location to watch the runners, so the cheers of support reach their maximum level at this point.

For me it was more complicated to run along First Avenue, a large straight of five miles with a slight upward incline, which allows you to see the sea of runners in the distance that warns you that you still have a lot to cross that stretch of the race. That sensation of seeing what you must travel is a trap for the mind. At the end of that avenue is the Bronx, the fifth neighborhood.

V

If when you are in the Bronx you expect to see somewhere the famous Yankee Stadium, forget it, you won't see it. The route through this neighborhood is three kilometers, from 30 to 33, to then return to Manhattan, take Fifth Avenue toward Central Park for the last five miles, the hardest of the marathon.

In that part of the route the skyscrapers darken the city and the cold hits harder. That's where I started to feel fatigue, but far from any sensation like in the races in Mexico City. I was going to finish this marathon and I was going to do it strong.

I entered Central Park and imagining that the finish line is near invites you to accelerate, but the number of runners and spectators complicated any attempt to go faster. At mile 25, a little more than 1,600 meters from the finish line, is perhaps the biggest setback the course gives you in this marathon: you must exit Central Park to cross the park widthwise through 59th Street. So close... and then they take you out of the place where the final line is. I felt my strength running out.

I crossed the finish line in the time I had planned and with the satisfaction of having achieved the objective that just weeks before was in doubt. I walked to find something to eat. Meanwhile, I took out my phone to take some photos and sent a message to let the cheer squad know I had reached the finish line and that I was alive.

Yoli replied that Vero was 20 minutes behind me. I decided to wait for the "Wonder Woman" on the way to the exit and crossed my fingers to be able to see her. That year a record of marathoners who finished the route was registered, with 50,530 people. Coinciding with Vero would be something like a miracle.

Almost at 20 minutes I saw from a distance the yellow flowers on Vero's cap. "Lady Flowers" crossed her second marathon finish line in days and this time I was able to receive her. The miracle happened.

I don't remember having hugged someone with as much pleasure as that day I hugged and kissed Vero. The adrenaline of finishing a marathon merged with the pride of seeing Vero achieve her goals, the last one, with the magic that New York City infects.