Walsh’s race report

Below is a full NYC Marathon race report from Matt Walsh. A few notes from his old coach:

--As I read this, it was gratifying to note all the Marist support for him along the course and at the finish. Great stuff!
--It is important to note that, had their been a “Matthew Walsh” division, our guy would have rocked it once again (as he did at Philly three years ago). The two other “Matthew Walsh” entrants in the race ran times north of 5 hours. Useless information? Perhaps …
--If you were to note Walsh’s splits, his slowest miles were the first few miles, which is an excellent strategy. While his final few miles were a bit slower than his belly-of-the-race pace, it was still faster than his first 5km pace. So it was a nicely executed race on a big-city course that is considered challenging.

Here’s the race report.

It was a pleasant surprise to find that we would have a pack of local guys running from the onset. I knew I would be running with my friend Sal Nastasi and Schab, but we had a few other guys with us as we traversed the bridge into Brooklyn. At around the apex of the bridge, we ran into our old friend Scotty La, who was really happy to see us and wished us well.

It continued to be 5 of us until Sal's buddy from college, Brian Cronin, had a calf explosion (he was hurt coming in) around 8k. Shortly thereafter our friend Chris Koegel (his sister was a Marist Soccer player) decided for the sake of his race that he was going to back off the sub-6:10 pace. Sal and I felt great through Brooklyn and Queens, running side by side, and Schab was tucked in right behind us. Around the first bridge in Queens was where we saw the most enthusiastic fan of the day - Chris Camp.

I think we lost Schab a little after the 59th Street Bridge, where we saw P-Diddy. At this point I felt great, I had a total runner’s high, and Sal and I were urging one another to stay in control. I kept up with the water, and my form felt great. Other notable Marist alums cheering were John Balsamo and Mark Fernandez, who I smiled and waved at. Once the crowds fizzled around mile 18, Sal and I said we were going to work together and ride the rest of the race out. Nothing hurt, all systems were running well.

My first "uh-oh" thought was coming into the Bronx as I pulled out my last Gu. We didn't attack the hill, but suddenly I had no quads. I held pace, but I don't really remember this borough all that much. Coming back onto 5th, I caught up to Sal (who had maybe 10m on me) but this was short lived as I couldn't stride out. He put 2 minutes on me in the last 10k.

At this point, my GPS watch was not really working (I think it lost accuracy on the 59th, truth be told) so what was once a godsend in keeping me on pace was now disheartening as I thought I was running minutes slower than I actually was. It didn't really matter, though, because I couldn't really see it anymore and I stopped bothering to check. Also, my mind was playing tricks on me - I saw the Empire State Building and thought I was approaching from the south (!) for some reason, which was a huge burden to carry until I realized the park was much closer than (falsely) anticipated.

I saw my father right before I entered the park and just tried to stay smooth and strong. This is where I thought much of what you wrote to me about standing tall and proud - although any fans (Conor, Laura, Shane, Curtis, Colin) would tell you that my eyes were anything but happy or proud. (It should be noted that when Schab passed these same fans, he smiled and waved). I passed the water stations without taking any more water because I physically wasn't bonking and in fact I stopped foaming, but my quads were rocks.

The nicest thing the NYRR ever did was put up the "mile to go" sign right after 25 as it made counting down the last 1k or so much easier. I actually had somewhat of a kick, as I put time on a rival LI runner in the last 400 meters which made me exceptionally happy.

Sal wound up running 2:41 but paid the price physically with muscle spasms. I was pretty good afterwards, but that was short lived as intestinal issues plagued me until around 5 p.m. Curtis and Colin were good sports though, and hung out with me and a few other friends while I was in the hurt locker; they were repaid by being treated to dinner by my friends sister and having a posh Upper East Side apartment to watch the Giants win in while drinking free beer. So it worked out for them!