Something else scary

I know that Halloween is over but here in New York City that's only the beginning of the scary things. I mean, really, have you ever seen the Radio City Music Hall Christmas Spectacular?

This coming Sunday, November 6, 2005 an enormous number of truly insane people will run 26.2 miles (in a row!) as fast as they can.

I do honestly think they're insane and yet I love to watch them do it. It's like that movie, what is it, Cosi? The one where a group of asylum inmates put on Cosi Fan Tutte. You're gonna go, you have to go, but you aren't exactly going for the music.

So, I don't really watch to see the winners or anything, although I do find that interesting. I watch to see all the runners and for that you have to watch it live. If you ever have an opportunity to watch this marathon in particular live you should jump at it. I'm told, by people who follow this much more closely than I, that the act of spectating the event, and therefore the act of running in it, are different here than anywhere else. I'm guessing you don't get a whole lot of cheering as you run through the wilds of Alaska. I watched the women's marathon in the last summer Olympics (not live, obviously) and by my crude estimation there weren't as many spectators on the whole route as there are in a mile of the NYC marathon.

Despite living in NYC if I hadn't lived close to the runners' route I bet I still wouldn't have seen it. However, one time, not realizing it was marathon weekend, I walked from one side of 4th Avenue in Brooklyn to the other and found that I couldn't get back to my home side for over an hour due to the throngs of people chugging along. It's like a tide! It's unbelievable.

A short time later, and totally coincidentally, I moved to an apartment that overlooked the route at about mile 8. I'd heard it was amazing to see but I had no idea. The first year I was home during the marathon I stayed in my jammies and planned to sit in my window and watch. The crowd below was so compelling I had to go down to the street level. My normally taciturn neighbors were down there bouncing up and down and yelling and screaming and clapping encouragement. The guy two doors up has a party every year that includes a DJ and a sound system. The DJ plays inspiring music and gives commentary on the runners he knows as they pass. He also will lead the crowd when he thinks their audible support is waning, pumping everyone up. Did I mention that the goes on for like 2 hours?

A word about the runners. Diverse.

OK, but seriously, you have people of all ages, all races and I'm sure all religions. Well, OK maybe not all but 9 out of 10 religions surveyed, I'm certain. There are at least 2 guys every year dressed in full on Rhino costumes, and while they aren't in the front of the pack they're not in the back either. 26.2 miles in a huge Rhino head and carapace. 'Cause 26.2 miles in the skin the good lord gave you isn't enough.

However, you're not here for a play by play of every weird, cool costume and outfit I've seen (women in fuzzy bras, 90 year old man in a turban), you're here to hear what to do.

Come watch the marathon live.

I, personally, recommend calling me and coming to my neighborhood and watching with me for maximum enjoyment. (Technically for maximum enjoyment you should watch with Marky B who, it turns out, knows how to yell encouragement in 13 different languages and rotates them based on the flags being displayed by the runners.) I promise we don't have to stand on the corner by the high school band that plays the theme from Rocky on endless loop this year. But, if you don't want to go that far then I've got some tools for you to find your own spectating spot.

Check out the ING New York City Marathon site. There's a timing chart and a map of the route so you can calculate what time the runners will be hitting your preferred viewing location. Be prepared to cheer a lot and take some pictures and maybe, just maybe, if you're a big old cotton commercial wussy like me, to shed a tear at the triumph of human crazy over the part of one's brain that knows that after a few miles the lactic acid starts actually eating your own body for fuel.