{"id":1716,"date":"2026-11-03T00:06:18","date_gmt":"2026-11-03T00:06:18","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thetripbook.com\/?p=1716"},"modified":"2026-11-03T00:06:18","modified_gmt":"2026-11-03T00:06:18","slug":"26-2-miles-through-the-five-boroughs-inside-the-milestone-2026-tcs-new-york-city-marathon","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thetripbook.com\/?p=1716","title":{"rendered":"26.2 Miles Through the Five Boroughs: Inside the Milestone 2026 TCS New York City Marathon"},"content":{"rendered":"

The Monday before my second New York City Marathon, I found myself standing at the Avenue Sky Lounge at the Peak, perched breathlessly on the 101st floor of 30 Hudson Yards. The occasion was the after-party for the New York premiere of Everest: The Other Side<\/em>, making it an ideal room for contemplating monumental climbs and physical thresholds. <\/p>\n

Among the attendees was ultra-endurance athlete and podcaster Rich Roll. As we discussed the looming events of Sunday, Roll admitted candidly that he was nervous. Only a year and a half earlier, following major spinal fusion surgery, his surgeon had explicitly warned him to forget about running entirely. If a man who has built an entire life and career on going long distances was feeling the pre-race jitters, I figured I was allowed to harbor some anxiety of my own.<\/p>\n

Seeking perspective, I drifted to the floor-to-ceiling windows to look out at the sprawling metropolis that was causing our collective unease. Far to the south, the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge\u2014where the historic race begins\u2014was visible only as a thin, delicate strand of light cutting through the dusk. Turning around to look northward, I spotted the dark, looming rectangle of Central Park, marking the ultimate destination. In between those two points lay everything else: Brooklyn, Queens, a corner of the Bronx, and the relentless, long urban canyon of First Avenue.<\/p>\n

You can study the course map endlessly in an attempt to familiarize yourself with the terrain and formulate a foolproof race plan. You tell yourself not to bomb up or down the Verrazzano because you will inevitably pay for that early recklessness on the Queensboro Bridge; you remind yourself to keep a steady, disciplined cadence through Brooklyn and save everything you have left for Central Park South. I had run this exact course before. And yet, looking down from the 101st floor, no amount of strategic planning could quiet the fundamental question echoing in my mind: What on earth had I signed up for?<\/p>\n

Six days later, there was no longer any room for backing out. At 4:00 A.M. on Sunday, I boarded the F train to begin the pilgrimage to the start line. Because this was the morning immediately following Halloween, I had colorful company in the subway car: a rowdy group of late-revellers in full costume, including Darth Vader and Rosie the Riveter, wrapping up their Saturday night just as my grueling Sunday morning was commencing. It was also the exact morning the clocks fell back for the end of daylight saving time, gifting the rest of the city an extra hour of sleep. Nearly 60,000 registered runners, however, did not get to sleep in.<\/p>\n

From midtown, I caught a designated race bus bound for Staten Island. The vehicle crawled through traffic on the West Side Highway, a stretch of asphalt I have run hundreds of times as the primary site of my routine training blocks\u2014though, if I am being entirely honest, tackling Prospect Park\u2019s rolling hills more frequently would have been the smarter preparation. Out the bus window, the sky over Brooklyn shifted slowly from deep purple to a soft, glowing pink. Brooklyn, where nearly half of the marathon’s total distance unfolds, has been my home for the majority of my life.<\/p>\n

People often say that the best thing about Jersey City is its picturesque view of the Manhattan skyline. At 6:00 A.M. on marathon morning, however, the perspective reverses entirely: the sun rises directly behind you, casting a brilliant, golden light across Jersey City\u2019s sleek glass towers, which in turn reflect the warmth back across the cold, old waters of the Hudson River. <\/p>\n

\"The<\/figure>\n

That is ultimately how you measure 26.2 miles in New York City. You measure it by subway lines, by chartered buses, on foot during countless training blocks, and from high up in the autumn air. And, finally, you measure it by running every single step of the way.<\/p>\n

This particular running of the New York City Marathon was destined to be historic no matter what transpired on the course. Fifty years ago, in 1976, the race broke out of its traditional confines inside Central Park\u2014where it had previously been contested in repetitive loops\u2014and expanded into the streets of all five boroughs. About 2,000 adventurous runners entered that inaugural city-wide race, and a mere 88 of them were women. By contrast, this year\u2019s milestone running saw more than 61,000 athletes cross the finish line, an impressive cohort that included nearly 29,000 women.<\/p>\n

The New York City Marathon has always been a unique arena where athletic achievement comes in many different sizes, and the personal narratives it generates are remarkably varied. At the elite front of the race, Sweden\u2019s Andreas Almgren captured the men\u2019s division victory with a stellar time of 2:06:01, an astonishing feat achieved in what was remarkably the very first marathon of his life. In the women\u2019s race, Kenya\u2019s Sheila Chepkirui triumphed to claim her second victory in three years. Meanwhile, American runner Jess McClain delivered a thrilling performance, hunting down two-time champion Hellen Obiri in the final strides of the race to secure second place\u2014marking the first time an American woman has stood on the New York podium since 2018. In the wheelchair divisions, Marcel Hug secured his eighth New York title, while Catherine Debrunner dominated her field to win by a margin of more than eight minutes.<\/p>\n

Yet the stories unfolding further back in the massive pack were just as compelling. Rich Roll successfully made it to the Staten Island start line and pushed all the way through to the Central Park finish. Now 60 years old, Roll had structured his training around a remarkably modest schedule of just two five-mile run-walk sessions a week, exercising extreme caution to protect his fused spine. Furthermore, he did not run the race for personal glory; he served as a dedicated run support partner for former Army Master Sergeant Cedric King, a Purple Heart recipient who lost both legs above the knee to an improvised explosive device in combat. Reflecting on the experience in a subsequent social media post, Roll noted that the true secret to a meaningful life is learning to make it about something much larger than yourself.<\/p>\n

British ultrarunner William Goodge also crossed the iconic finish line in Central Park, completing his monumental project of running 50 marathons in 23 consecutive days across all 50 states\u2014a grueling endeavor that had kicked off in Honolulu on October 9. The remarkable feat earned him a Guinness World Record while raising vital funds for Stand Up To Cancer in memory of his late mother.<\/p>\n

Then there is Dave Obelkevich. Now 83 years old, Obelkevich has finished every single five-borough New York City Marathon since the modern course was established in 1976. On Sunday, he lined up to tackle race number 49, with his daughter running right beside him.<\/p>\n

The New York City Marathon is also one of the rare sporting events where watching the absolute final finishers make their way home serves as a major highlight. This year, the very last runner to cross the line was James Thomas, a 78-year-old affectionately known to his running peers as Marty. He completed his journey around 11:20 P.M., long after the elite champions had retired for the evening. It marked his 43rd New York City Marathon appearance, having run his first back in 1980.<\/p>\n

\"The<\/figure>\n

Observers and participants alike frequently cite marathon Sunday as one of the absolute best days of the year in New York City, and the reason always boils down to profound community support. The atmosphere shifts constantly: from the vibrant live bands performing along Fourth Avenue in Bay Ridge, to the eerie hush followed by an eruption of noise through Williamsburg as residents seemingly pick up right where their Halloween parties left off. There is the wall of sound that hits you like a physical wave when you transition from the relative silence of the Queensboro Bridge onto the bustling corridor of First Avenue, the soul-stirring gospel music echoing through Harlem, and the countless absolute strangers who inexplicably manage to yell your name out of the dense crowd precisely when you need to hear it the most.<\/p>\n

This year, I would end up needing that external energy much more than I had originally anticipated.<\/p>\n

To put it plainly, my race did not go according to plan. The wheels completely came off my performance on the Queensboro Bridge, as they routinely do for so many hopeful runners. Even athletes who have never tackled New York before know its formidable reputation for unraveling race dreams on that specific stretch of concrete. The upper deck of the bridge is notoriously quiet\u2014devoid of screaming crowds and the physiological boost of spectator energy. Instead, you are surrounded by the sound of heavy breathing, groaning, and muttered curses as runners battle sudden cramps and fatigue. If you are feeling great when you hit the bridge, you possess a fighting chance; if you are already struggling, you are likely cooked. As it turned out, I was thoroughly cooked. While I knew with absolute certainty that I would still push to the finish line, the bridge made it abundantly clear that my day would not yield the personal record I had trained and hoped for.<\/p>\n

Still, a harsh blowup during my attempt at the London Marathon back in April had taught me a valuable lesson: when you can no longer lock into the target pace you spent months chasing, you must lock into pure joy instead. So, I resorted to strategic power-walking whenever necessary to keep my legs from descending into full, debilitating cramps. However, whenever a small child stuck a hand out from the crowd, I surged forward to offer a high-five. And whenever a spectator shouted my name with enough passionate conviction, I would start running again, as if the spoken words possessed some sort of magic restorative property. <\/p>\n

The crowd signs also helped keep the miles passing with a bit of entertainment. The best ones riffed brilliantly on pop culture, including a clever nod to the Elizabeth Holmes scandal spotted around mile 18: "There\u2019s only two miles to go, why would I deceive you?" Another sign captured pure local sports sentiment with a classic New York edge: "Run If You Hate Wemby."<\/p>\n

I am also quite confident that I have never enjoyed a handful of Sour Patch Kids quite as much as the ones a pint-size candy dealer pressed into my palm from a giant sack at mile 21 in Harlem, with five grueling miles still left to conquer. It was intensely sour, and then wonderfully sweet.<\/p>\n

On the subway ride home, draped in the traditional orange finisher poncho, I chatted with fellow exhausted runners and unpacked the emotional debris of the day. Some passengers were utterly elated simply to have beaten the cutoff time and earned the medal, while others were visibly crushed by finishing times that I would have been absolutely thrilled to post. It served as a timely reminder that marathons are not always strictly about the stopwatch. Mostly.<\/p>\n

\"The<\/figure>\n

Later that evening around the dinner table, over takeout orders of Kung Pao chicken, my children and I unpacked the race once more. I admitted to them that I was not entirely satisfied with my final result, and that I had plenty of critical thinking to do regarding my training methodology ahead of the next starting line. Even so, I got the job done, and I managed to push through the fatigue mostly injury-free, with my official toenail count still pending.<\/p>\n

My younger daughter was proud of a milestone of her own: competing in only her second cross-country meet, she had managed to run a full minute and a half faster than her debut outing. She is steadily learning how to push her own physical boundaries with patience and purpose.<\/p>\n

Naturally, the conversation drifted toward the broader theme of what keeps a person moving forward when circumstances turn difficult. My older daughter noted that she frequently reminds herself that human beings were fundamentally built to run\u2014that endurance and motion are quite literally what our bodies were engineered to do.<\/p>\n

I plan on taking that simple, grounding truth with me into my next training block. And, of course, I will be considerably more prepared for the quiet reckoning of the Queensboro Bridge.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The Monday before my second New York City Marathon, I found myself standing at the Avenue Sky Lounge at the Peak, perched breathlessly on the 101st floor of 30 Hudson Yards. The occasion was the after-party for the New York premiere of Everest: The Other Side, making it an ideal room for contemplating monumental climbs […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":19,"featured_media":1715,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[269],"tags":[270,2705,250,272,1630,253,641,2618,587,1082,271,222],"class_list":["post-1716","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-adventure-travel-outdoor-activities","tag-adventure-travel","tag-boroughs","tag-city","tag-exploration","tag-five","tag-hiking","tag-inside","tag-marathon","tag-miles","tag-milestone","tag-outdoor-sports","tag-york"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thetripbook.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1716","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thetripbook.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thetripbook.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thetripbook.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/19"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thetripbook.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1716"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/thetripbook.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1716\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thetripbook.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/1715"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thetripbook.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1716"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thetripbook.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1716"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thetripbook.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1716"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}