Mary: Sunday.

This morning I ran 13.2 miles through New York City for the Annual NYC Half-Marathon. This being my second half-marathon, I knew what to expect in length, time and points of extreme fatigue along the way, but my experience running today was like none I've ever had before.

We started in Central Park around 86th street. My dad and I drove into Manhattan from our home on Long Island at 5:30am because we knew after such a long run, the last thing we'd want to do is sit on public transportation for a 50-minute train ride home. On the way in, the rain was so thick and so strong we could hardly see through his windshield. Neither of us said much as lightning stuck overhead through the blotchy sunroof of the SUV. We were screwed if the rain didn't stop, even worse if there continued to lightning. But as we approached the Queens-Midtown Tunnel, the rain slowed to a drizzle and all the storm commotion came to a stop. The car went into a parking garage and we walked to the start line.

But first, back uppppppp.

On the first Sunday in May, my dad and I ran the Long Island Half-Marathon. It was my first half and his 7th. He turned 56 this week. Pretty impressive, old man! The previous year, he was recovering from prostate cancer surgery/treatment and obviously was not exercising at all. 2007 was the only year he missed his spring/summer marathon routine and I vowed to be his running partner once he was back on his feet. My first serious run was a 5k in September 2007, which I happily completed at 9am with a notorious hangover, then another in December. It was fast training, which did not work well with my first-year graduate school schedule, but I needed something to obsess about and running was a perfect object. As suspected, my dad dragged me through the last 3 miles of that May marathon and as tears streamed down my face, with only a mile or so to go, I knew I couldn't have finished alone. Tears of pain, frustration and regret, I should add - not tears of joy, happiness or accomplishment. I told myself I would never do a run like that again - and yet, a few months later, I found myself training on hills in the local park, preparing for the steep and difficult elevation of Central Park.

It's difficult to describe how exciting it was for us to finally be together, running through the park, at 7am on this Sunday morning. 70 degrees and 90% humidity was far from ideal. But coming out of Central Park on mile 7 and running through Times Square, on 7th Avenue, looking around at the barricaded streets lined with spectators - the emotion was something I've never felt before. My dad and I laughed and smiled and slapped high-five's with people standing close. Police officers gave us thumbs up, yelled to keep on running, told us we were doing great. I'm sure they were bored and exhausted of standing around since 7am, but they showed no signs of weariness. For whatever reason, running through Times Square, it felt like all of New York City was cheering us on to finish the race strong.

And we did - almost 10 minutes faster than the May marathon, despite the added heat, humidity and elevation. Andrew waited with a huge smile at the finish line, jumping and yelling my name with such pride. He came running over to give me a congratulatory hug, sweat and all, sticky with the Gatorade being handed out along the route. He held tight onto my hand while we walked around the after party, while my dad and I collected our free bags of apples and water bottles. He id not let go after we found our way to the 4/5 train back uptown.

When we got to the parking garage once again, I collapsed into the front seat of my dads car, trying desperately to stay awake while we sat in traffic on the ride home. Once again, the skies opened up and it began to rain. The wind increased and the roads turned to steamy mud-like pathways. In our car, we laughed at the irony of rain on the way in and rain on the way out but a perfectly clear run time. Once back in our home, my mom waited with the electricity flickering on and off as local telephone wire breakage caused a problem with the lines, my dad and I told stories of the various people we saw on the run. A man without a shirt had his butt crack hanging out the entire time. A woman was basically wearing a bra and panties in an effort to show off her Amazon-like figure. With perfect patience, my mom smiled and laughed and encouraged us to share what we had just completed. And after all the excitement, as the afternoon wound down, we went to the 5 o'clock mass, like usual, out to dinner with Andrew, like usual and got home in time to watch the end of the Yankee game.

I find it very difficult to communicate the importance of an experience like this, that involved so much dedication and preparation, but is all done and over with in a simple mornings time. Maybe because it's 1am and I've been up since 5am - what's that, 20 hours? I should rest up.

(The next one is September 21st, this time, in Philadelphia.)