It claims to be the largest marathon in the world, yet it cannot accommodate all the interest. About 4 percent of people who entered a lottery for the 2024 New York City Marathon will have the chance to weave through five boroughs and over five bridges all the way to Central Park on Sunday. The rejection email, sent to many tens of thousands of marathon runners in March, featured a top photo of a runner in an orange shirt that read “Nick” as he happily flashed his finger guns at the camera — finger guns he “used to our hopes and dreams,” as one woman put it. “I’m the most hated person in running,” Nick Parisi, the unwitting man in the photo, told NBC New York. Ironically, Parisi himself did not initially participate in the marathon. The CEO of New York Road Runners, which organizes the marathon every year, had to limit the damage by presenting Parisi with guaranteed entry and a custom-made race bib.

Spots in the NYC Marathon are therefore coveted. But let me tell you what running that race is really like, as someone who enjoys marathons enough to have completed three, plus a “virtual marathon” in the fall of 2020, and a 52-mile ultramarathon. Running the New York City Marathon means being followed on an app by your friends and loved ones (and possibly enemies?) while being yelled at for three to six hours. It is known that the course basically has no breaks from the crowd of spectators; the bridges are the only parts where it is quiet. And wow, at the end of it, did I wish everyone watching would just shut up.

I don’t hate spectators per se. In fact, one of the greatest joys in this life is having the opportunity to literally cheer on someone, or to be cheered on yourself. When I ran that “virtual marathon”—a marathon where you pay money for a medal but simply run the distance yourself—I was so worried about how I would fare without encouragement and general camaraderie that I wrote mantras on note cards beforehand. wrote. the breed. Each time I completed a mile, I drew a card from the deck, which I kept in a pocket on my hydration pack. I was inspired by the signs I’d seen people persevere during previous marathons I’d run in Toronto and Miami: You got this, You’re greatthat kind of energy. Undiluted praise and faith: it is powerful.

Sometimes spectators give you nice snacks: I’ll never forget the mini pretzels someone offered to runners somewhere around mile 22 of my first marathon. I was so sick of the sugary gel sachets that are essential at these events and yet needed food so desperately that I didn’t think twice about sticking my hand directly into a bathtub that was probably 3 percent sweat at the time. When I ran the NYC Marathon a few years ago, a stranger in Queens gave me a small can of Coke, a much-needed boost. The fact that someone came out with a six-pack of soda to offer the runners: that’s racing magic.

But in this city, watching the marathon seems even more like a sport than running it. Many people have annual plans to get together with friends and post in a specific place. For the past six years I have lived on the course itself and even enjoyed watching runners pass by with my neighbors. In the run-up to Mine marathon race day, when casual acquaintances identified me as someone running the marathon, they got excited. “I’m following you!” said one, as she pulled up the app on her phone, where you can type in the name of anyone running and watch their little dot move around the course in real time. At first I felt like a celebrity, and it was fun. Then I felt like a celebrity, and it sucked. After I finished the race, I heard that family members had also followed me. Yes, it was really sweet to get a text from someone I love right after I crossed the finish line. But if I knew people – anyone! – could I have been watching the whole time? No thanks. After the race, my boss reported seeing me passing by on the Upper East Side while she was at the annual marathon party she was attending. I was walking at that moment! I don’t want people I know to see me walking!

As I ran the near final stretch of the race through Central Park, I felt the sense of the crowd on either side of the path closing in. I hadn’t run well that day and the cheering felt like it was mocking me more than anything. For over twenty miles I had seen the same repetitions of jokes on signs – about runners being crazy, and bodily functions, and “Run like Brad Pitt is at the finish line!” – again and again. Some people were holding giant, blown-up faces of their loved ones running, which is cute the first few times you see it, and then the faces are, well, gigantic faces staring at you in your delirium. I run to get away from everything. This experience was the opposite of that.

You could rightly point out that almost no one really paid attention to it meand those that were, did so only fleetingly. But the feeling of being in the middle of all the commotion and attention, and feeling the pressure to perform well, was still there for me. Here too, the attention for the runners never stops. The cheering is none break from any other state of being. Are all cheering. I’m someone who generally thinks of himself as wanting attention. But participating in this race was like being caught with a cigarette and then being told to smoke the whole pack.

There are plenty of breeds that aren’t like that. In fact, I estimate that almost all of them are not like that. One of my favorite races is the United Airlines NYC Half Marathon, which takes place every March. It draws nice crowds in a few spots, including as you run through Times Square toward the end of the course, but it also includes a blissfully quiet stretch on FDR Drive, which is car-free in the mornings. And then there are the races like the next race I did after that NYC Marathon. It was outside of Tampa, Florida, in the woods. There were fewer than 100 participants. We left before dawn and wore headlamps. I brought my headphones, but in the end I couldn’t play any music. I talked a bit with other runners and heard snippets of chatter from volunteers, stopping a few times to take pictures of plants. I ate gummy bears and peanut butter sandwiches from my backpack and listened to my breathing. I spent almost seven hours taking that course just existing. That is, if you were turned down from running the NYC Marathon, you may have found a race to run instead. like better.

The New York Marathon is an achievement. I’m in awe of the people closing the roads, setting up the infrastructure, and generally coordinating this gigantic, colossal athletic event. It has been happening for more than 50 years and many runners have participated more than ten times. May everyone who really wants to experience it get the chance. And if you join us this year, I’ll be on the sidelines supporting you – and shout.