We Blog

In New York, the sun doesn’t set behind the ocean. It sets behind a skyline.

Going home at last,
G train take me back.
Wish you wouldn’t fly past
On the express track.

Up rolls the F train,
But I know I’ll be stuck
Waiting forever in vain —
Just my luck.

Bergen, Carroll, doesn’t matter.
I’ll wait impatiently to switch.
At night it’s even sadder
When I’m faced with this hitch.

I just want to get home,
With one seamless ride.
On foot I cannot roam
When it’s dark outside.

Where is my green escort?
Crap, orange rolls by.
The wait is never short.
G! Time to fly.

I’ve never liked to run. I’ve never been fond of jogging either. Running a marathon? Few things sound worse. But as I watched my second New York City Marathon run by today, I felt as I did last year — I want to be in this thing! Yeah, that’ll never happen. But it should demonstrate how much I love being a spectator at this event.

I’m ready to declare the marathon my co-favorite NYC event of the year (it shares the honor with the U.S. Open).

What’s better than waking up on a cold November morning, grabbing a local pastry and coffee, stumbling a few blocks away and cheering on thousands of strangers as they strive to complete a Herculean task?

One of the best parts is that the cheering spectators aren’t the only ones with huge smiles and high spirits. The runners — even those who are obviously struggling mightily — are jogging along grinning, cheering, high-fiving and waving. They’re fathers and daughters running in tandem. They’re handicapped and tackling the marathon with the help of a guide or a wheelchair. They’re dressed in costumes. They’re dressed in almost nothing at all. They’re wrapped in their nation’s flag. No matter how they do it, they’re doing it — and that’s more than most of us can say.

Another great marathon in the world’s greatest city. I love New York.