According to The New York Times, there were 47,438 runners participating in Sunday’s New York City marathon. Not one dropped dead because I chose to sleep this 26.2 mile race out. I am certain I was still deep in Dreamland when the winners, Firehiwot Dado of Ethiopia and Geoffrey Mutai of Kenya, crossed the finish line. When I was younger (up through last year) I fantasized about proving to myself that I have what it takes to run this iconic race once. Considering that I have now reached that stage in life where my heart could rip out of my throat Alien-style every time I climb the five flights of stairs leading up to my office, I have concluded that it would behoove me to sit this race out for the remainder of my life. Yet, I can envision myself sitting across from Milton and while nursing alcoholic beverages we engage in the following conversation:
Me: I’ve made a decision. I’m going to quit writing my blog, cut back on my drinking, eat healthy, and spend this entire year training for the 2012 New York City marathon. What do ya think?
Milton: No, you’re not!
Me: Will you wait for me at the finish line?
Milton: Sure. With an ambulance or an undertaker? [To our server.] We’ll have the hot wings and another round.
There is also a wheelchair division, not to imply I’m eligible to compete in that one (yet). If there’s a shopping cart race, maybe Milton and I could participate in that variation and take turns pushing each other through the five boroughs.
Enough with the self-mocking, I did have the energy to walk around Central Park the Saturday before the race. I entered picture-taking frenzy mode without even breaking into a sweat or requiring a full body massage. Below is a behind-the-scenes Lame Adventures-style look at marathon preparations.
Central Park West in full marathon banner mode.
Where friends, family and marathon freaks sit.
A few of the many media trucks parked on Central Park West.
Even the Golf Channel showed up ...
... As well as a leftover tennis ball from September's US Open tennis tournament (more evidence of Sam Stosur's powerful serve since the open is held in Queens).
Some of the media's baggage.
Leave it to Lame Adventures to find the pedicab driver who thinks that the portable toilets are drive-thru.
Seriously, don't even think of parking here during the marathon.
Works for me.
Flagville inside the park.
Hm, actual marathon runners training or posers acting like actual marathon runners training?
Runners can smell the finish line from here.
The smell of the finish line - stronger to those that know the length of 400m.
China's flag indicating race is almost over. Some runners might feel like they actually ran to the Mainland.
Final flag confirming that this was indeed the marathon route should any runners fail to realize that until the 26.2 mile point.
Lame Adventures 
Thanks for the pictures and all the hilarious comments with them – loved the tennis ball and pedi-cab drive-through
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Those were my two favorites as well, Phil! Thanks for visiting and taking the time to comment.
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Lazy-ass, lame-adventurer– that you are!
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“Lazy-ass” — what my parents almost named me!
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I myself prefer to chase after the Olive Oyl balloon at the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade as my form of annual exercise.
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Thank you for sharing the secret of your wash tub abs, Max.
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I did almost drop dead because you didn’t participate. Stop spying on pedicab drivers, Pervy McPervsalot.
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Yes, I am a pedicab stalker!
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Shopping cart race! Yes, do it! Why not? Plenty of room for beverages, the picnic lunch, sunscreen, your Kindle… I just don’t get that running for hours thing. What are they doing that for?!!
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The thrill of victory and the agony of the feet?
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Good for you on deciding not to run. We did not move to the top of the food chain and master the art of burning hydrocarbons to run 26 miles on foot. That’s why we have cars. Besides, there’s a better reason to sit on the sidelines. The guy who did it first (Pheidippides) dropped dead immediately after finishing!
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And apparently he ran naked: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Phidippides.jpg. Ugh. Sometimes glimpsing myself naked upon exiting the shower is almost enough to give me a heart attack. Thanks for the ancient Greece history lesson about the origins of marathon running, Chris.
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