I’m running in the NYC Marathon this Sunday. You should all come out and watch, it should be a lot of fun.

This will be my fourth marathon and second NY Marathon. I’ve trained a lot for this one and I’m feeling better than ever. I’ve gotten rid of some of the summer weight I gained while tanning (burning) in Barcelona eating tuna and guzzling barrels of wine and wheels of cheese with old college friends in France. (I certainly gained no weight from my girlfriend’s cooking—whole wheat muffins sweetened with molasses.)

Running is a lifestyle, and training for a marathon is a lifestyle change. Consistency is the key to success. Missing a run one day is bad. Missing several runs or not keeping up the training can cause you to fall behind and not be adequately prepared. You probably won’t get a great body by running. You’ll lose weight, but it won’t necessarily show. Your resting heart rate slows significantly and your lung capacity improves. Your threshold for pain goes up and you rarely get sick.

But what is Sunday going to be like? Let me paint you a picture of the experience of running a marathon. You feel great for the first 15 miles. If you can’t do 14 or 15 miles without breaking a sweat, you’re probably in the wrong race. So everyone starts out looking good. Your motion is smooth, your legs are strong, your breathing is easy. 2.5 million people are cheering and it’s the happiest time. Then mile 18 comes along and all of a sudden things get painful and you fatigue. Your legs start aching, it feels like the route is entirely uphill now, and you start wondering why you thought this would be fun.

Mile 21 kills. That’s where you can’t ignore the pain and fatigue anymore. They are deafening and become all you think about. By mile 23-24, you begin rationalizing: it wouldn’t be so bad if I stopped this race right now. I’ll still have done a lot. I’ll still have succeeded and accomplished so much. You think “what difference does it make… I’ve done all the training. That was the hard part. This is just another 3 miles. What’s the big deal if I don’t do it.”

A marathon is many things for the people running it. For some, it’s a race. For others, it’s a one-time accomplishment, to see if they can do it. For me, it’s an attempt to beat my personal record. But for everyone, it’s painful.

Pain is generally a hard thing to describe. Humans are wired to not be able to recall the experience of pain. We can conjure up old images in our heads, hum songs we heard a long time ago, recite phrases. Even remember how things smell. But trying to remember how a certain pain felt is very difficult. Thank god.

Pain is what a marathon ends up being about. When I ran the Arizona Marathon last year with my sister, she complained that her legs hurt, her head hurt, her feet hurt. I turned to her incredulously and said “do you think this is a walk in the park for all those people behind you?” I explained that this race is special because we are experiencing a kind of pain that takes 23 miles of running to feel. It takes hours of hard exercise to attain the level of stress and sting that we were feeling throughout our legs. Few will ever achieve that agony in their lives. It’s not like breaking your leg. It’s a club that comes with a high price to pay in determination and discomfort.

But the reward… oh that sweet, delicious reward. At mile 25.2, with just 1 mile left, every step forward feels like you’re climbing a flight of stairs. An eternity passes each moment. You are at your slowest pace but you feel like you’re sprinting. The finish line comes into view and finally an end to the misery is in sight. But it is a mirage. It approaches slowly. It barely moves. You’re in a dream, treading water and going nowhere fast.

And then it’s over. Maybe you noticed a camera taking your photo and put your arms up and smiled, but maybe you were too busy drowning out the excruciating pain to notice anything. When I crossed the line last year after 4 hours 11 minutes, my legs buckled and I couldn’t stand straight. I kept wobbling and knocking into people as we made our way, slowly, to the street. Then I cried. It was easily the biggest thing I’d ever accomplished.

I’m hoping to break 4 hours on Sunday. The numbers are in my favor. I ran a 1:52 half marathon in late August, then a 1:50 half marathon 2 weeks later in miserable pouring rain. Both shoes were soaked, one nipple was bleeding. I ran a 5:50 mile on 5^th avenue. I ran a 10 mile leg of a relay marathon (my 2 sisters and father ran the other 3 legs) at just under 8 minute pace.

Teresa will be jumping in and running a stretch with me, probably around mile 11 hopefully til the end. Feel free to do the same if you see us. I’ll be wearing a white shirt.

I’m ready for the burn on Sunday and I’m ready to have a personal record. Come out and watch. Check out www.nycmarathon.org and www.mta.info (click on the marathon subway map link). Or if you’re really lazy, just come to the end. Official start time is 10:10am so I’ll hopefully finish by 2:15pm. Go to the reunion spot under the letter “N”