Eric Garrido

I received an unexpected email in March from the New York Road Runners with the subject “Claim Your Entry to Run on November 2!” I was confused. I had already used all of my 9+1 guaranteed entry slots from my time living in New York City (2019, 2022, 2024). I thought it must have been an error and they’d send a correction email shortly thereafter.

No such email arrived. I texted my friend, who pointed out that the guaranteed entry time for my new age group is 2h58m and I qualified with two minutes to spare from my 2024 NYC Marathon time! Sweet!

Despite continual ranting about the logistical overhead of getting to the NYC Marathon start line and swearing off ever running the race again, I couldn’t resist. I decided to defer my Chicago entry to next year and run New York instead.

These are my notes on race preparation and execution (as usual, mostly written to remind myself about the experience in decades to come).

Running around Marcus Garvey Park with 4 miles to go.

Result

Time: 2:52:33 (6:35/mi, 4:05/km)
Overall place: 1,339 / 59,125
Gender place: 1,262 / 31,863
AG place: 222 / 4,253

Goals

✅ 0) Complete the training block with high adherence.
✅ A) Beat my 2:56 from last year.
✅ B) Sub 2:58, the guaranteed entry cut-off time for my AG.
✅ C) Sub-3
✅ D) Finish without walking.

Training

With my second daughter due about a month after the 2024 New York City Marathon, I knew my free time was running out. I decided to cross one last-minute item off of my bucket list: running Boulder’s iconic Skyline Traverse, a 17.3mi, 5,846ft gain route that summits three local peaks. I was led by three of my favorite running partners, all of whom have way more trail running experience than I do. It was a fantastic experience packed with type-2 fun. But, I managed to twist my ankle a couple of times toward the end of the run, which turned out to be an injury I ended up having to nurse throughout training in 2025.

After Reina was born in early December 2024, I intentionally took through mid-March mostly off from running and entirely off from training. I had some ambition to train a bit for the BOLDERBoulder 10k on Memorial Day, a local staple, but my training ended up being haphazard and unfocused, and mostly just endurance paces. BOLDERBoulder was a wake-up call. The race made it painfully obvious how much fitness I had lost during my hiatus.

I was happy to have found the NUTMobile during a run!

My poor result inspired a return to serious training. I started the McMillan hill training plan at the beginning of June, coinciding with the start of three months of baby-bonding leave. While I hoped to run high volume during this break, childrearing and house projects kept me between 60-70 miles/week, albeit with good consistency with hill repeats and long runs.

The results speak for themselves. Toward the end of the hill training plan in mid-July, I ran a standard route that I’ve run dozens of times with 1,204ft of elevation in mostly one climb. I felt very sharp, setting a bunch of uphill segment PRs and not stopping once. Fitness was happening!

Proper marathon training started around mid-August. As the newest edition of Pete Pfitzgerald’s Advanced Marathoning had just come out with slightly updated plans, I ended up using a hybrid of the Pfitz 12/55-70 and 12/70-85 training plans to meet my mileage goals. My primary goal in training while on leave from work was to be consistent, but flexible: I wanted to be present for my family and continue to get house projects done, but I also wanted to adhere to the plan as much as possible.

I didn’t quite hit my desired volume: only five weeks out of the twelve topped 70 miles. But I did hit 80 miles for the first time ever in one of those weeks, and did so comfortably. All of the other weeks were in the 60-70mi/week range.

One intentional change I made this cycle that partially accounted for lower volume was to make my recovery runs very easy. Where my target marathon pace was around 6:35/mi, I made my recovery run pace around 9:00/mi; and where I often train on hilly courses, I did most of my recovery runs on a flat treadmill. I think this was a positive change that caused me to feel fresher for workouts and long runs. Plus, I was able to watch a bunch more of the Tour de France in July.

I also largely didn’t do any doubles. I instead focused on starting and even finishing some house improvements.

As the weeks wore on, I grew concerned that the Pfitz plans had very little speed work, despite knowing that the key part of the Pfitz plans is the mid-week “medium” long run of mostly 14-15 miles. I stuck to the plan and trusted the process, reassuring myself that race specificity is the best training and that I still had endurance stamina to build after taking several months off earlier in the year.

I ran the Boulderthon Half Marathon at the end of September as my tune-up race and as only my second race of the year. It went decently, finishing in 1:25:36, 37 seconds off of a PR (both races at altitude). This was a decent sign.

A common view at the start of runs during this build. This will never get old.

With a month to go before the race, I felt great and I was routinely running at the front of the pack of my club’s weekly long run, which consists of many very fast marathoners. I decided to postpone the first taper week that Pfitz has in the plans at three weeks to go and get in one more, final 70-mile week.

In keeping with the tradition of minor-but-self-inflicted-and-avoidable taper injuries, I managed to bash my knee cap against the steering tube of my very heavy cargo bike while performing a moving dismount that went very wrong. I had to take an additional, unplanned day off from running, but found that the pain was improving each day and it even felt better when running.

Pre-Race

I followed essentially the same template as last year.

Friday evening: I arrived in New York and walked into my favorite neighborhood Michelin Bib Gourmand-winning ramen restaurant, Tonchin. While I much prefer their spicy tan tan ramen, I stuck to a much race-safer non-spicy tonkotsu, paired it with some chicken buns and finished with their luxurious banana pudding dessert to properly kick off my carb load.

Saturday morning:

I got out the door at around 8:45am to meet up with fellow Boulder Track Club members to run up 6th Avenue to Central Park before the Dash to the Finish 5k starts and while the street is closed to cars. We watched the pros and elites go by.

The pro women’s race flies up an empty Sixth Avenue.

I visited my favorite neighborhood bagel joint for breakfast and for provisions for the rest of the day’s worth of carb loading.

I went over to the expo to pick up my bib, but left as quickly as possible to avoid time on my feet.

Saturday afternoon:

…that said, I went to the Lego Store to pick up some souvenirs for my daughter, which took significantly longer than expected.
I ordered delivery from my favorite pancake restaurant in the city, Clinton Street Baking Co.
I watched a lot of running videos on YouTube with my feet up.
Finally, I ordered pasta from a local Italian restaurant.

Race Morning

I’m continually in awe of the planning and logistics that go into moving 60,000+ people onto Staten Island. That said, I got bit by my own assumptions and poor planning.

Last year, I arrived exactly at 5:30am at Bryant Park and was able to very quickly get on a bus to get spirited away for a very fine sunrise on Staten Island. I had hours to sit on the cold, hard pavement of Fort Wadsworth, followed by 25 minutes in the corral before the race started. The wait in the small penned-in area prior to walking to the start prevents any sort of warm up before the major climb of the race.

A much appreciated inspirational message from the barista.

I figured I could leave a little later and save some time. I got coffee at Starbucks (yuck! but it’s the only coffee place open that early!) at 5:30am and walked the two blocks over to the library. I found that there was already a line that snaked completely around the block and immediately joined it. I don’t know the exact timeline, but this line took forever before dumping me into what appeared to be the official entrance for the buses, which was relatively empty.

Past this free-flowing line, though, a disorderly horde swarmed the buses. Once onboard, I dozed off, only to wake up to a standstill on the Verrazano Bridge. We sat there for an eternity. By the time I disembarked, the security lines were the longest I’d ever seen. As I joined the queue, workers barricaded the entrance behind me. I was on one of the last buses to arrive.

The security line basically didn’t move. Some volunteers suggested that Wave 1 runners still in the line should move up. There were a surprising number of us and we were still many rows away by the time we consolidated toward the front of the line. I knew the corrals would close at exactly 8:45am and the closure is very strict. I put my phone in my bag before getting through the metal detector and I took off sprinting toward the blue corrals.

On the positive side, I did solve my complaint about lack of warm up: I was definitely running faster than marathon pace for a few minutes before arriving at the blue section. Looking at the map now, I must have taken a wrong turn and then followed signs for an inefficient, longer route.

I got a decent impromptu warm-up through the start village.

As I arrived, I saw the blue-bibbed runners walking out of our designated fenced-in area toward the start line. Between us were crowd-control gates manned by volunteers and security guards barricading the entrance.

I ran up to the first corral opening I saw and before I could get any words out, a volunteer shouted, “The gates are closed! Wave 2 is a perfectly good wave!”

I sprinted to the next gate. “My bus was late! Can I—”

“The corrals closed ten minutes ago!” the hired security guard bellowed. He paused, looking at my panic. “But come on. Come through here.”

He slid the gate open. “You can’t bring the bag, though.”

I tossed my bag toward a trash can and stepped through.

Then it hit me: my phone was still in the bag!

Fuck.

I picked my bag back up and rummaged around and just couldn’t find it.

“Come on, man! They’re leaving already!”, the security guard bellowed.

I dumped some stuff out and finally located it. I ran through the gates, gripped the shoulder of the security guard, and gave him the most heartfelt thank you I could muster.

Adrenaline pumping, I hurriedly stripped off my clothing donation, made quick use of the nearest porta-potty, and moved up toward the start line.

I looked around and was surrounded by people who had formerly been in the C Corral, exactly where I was supposed to be.

I owe my entire race to that security guard.

So many people between me and the start line.

The Race

Because of the AbbottWMM MTT Age Group World Championships and of the huge mass of people participating in the worldwide running boom, I started one corral farther back than last year. And, because I wasn’t really able to move up that far during our walkout, I started significantly farther back from the start line than in 2024. It took a full minute longer to get past the start line after the gun went off.

I had worried about pacing the uphill first mile, but those worries were unfounded; the bridge was packed. My pace was dictated by slow runners and, unbelievably, people texting on their phones.

Things loosened up on the backside of the bridge, and shortly thereafter I bumped into my colleague and friend Howon, who recognized me and called out my name. We chatted for a bit before I tried to move up further.

For the rest of the race, I focused on being intentional about effort level, trying to maintain a relaxed composure, and pushing myself a little harder than usual if I was feeling good.

I eventually made contact with and passed by the 2:55 pacers, who started a bit in front of me, in Williamsburg at around mile 11. It turned out one of the pacers is a friend formerly of Boulder and a member of my track club. As I was climbing the Queensboro Bridge, I could hear him encouraging his pace group. I told myself, “I gotta get away from this guy!" and surged over the crest of the bridge to fly down into Manhattan.

Coming over the Queensboro Bridge with the 2:55 pacers behind me.

The time gap between me and the 2:55 pacers, who started a few minutes ahead of me.

On First Avenue, for the second year in a row, I passed Casey Neistat (creator of two of my favorite videos about marathoning, “i got beat up at the NYC Marathon 2022” and “Sisyphus and the Impossible Dream“). I wouldn’t have noticed him if the crowd hadn’t started screaming, “Casey! Casey!” I turned my head, and there he was.

I had a few niggles during the race. My calves were tight from the line through 10km, which is typical for me, and luckily this didn’t result in any loss of sensation in my feet as in previous marathons. At mile 18 up First Avenue, I had some novel, acute pain in my right hip joint, which I was worried would devolve into a race-ending injury, but I ran through it and it abated soon thereafter.

I felt strong on the dreaded climb up Fifth Avenue at mile 23. I could swear I passed by what seemed like hundreds of runners as they faded on this modest-but-late incline, but the statistics don’t confirm this feeling: I only passed a net 168 runners over the entire race. Entering into Central Park was a psychological relief, knowing I was starting the home stretch, but I was definitely conscious of every step while intentionally trying to maintain good form.

I crossed the line after 2h52m33s of running. I instantly reflected on and was gracious about the result and the successful training cycle.

And then I looked over to my left to see three dudes puking next to each other.

I also bumped into Eric Floberg after the finish. He published a touching video about this race.

Race Analysis

I was remarkably consistent across the course, especially considering that the first mile is uphill and 30km-40km contains most of the elevation of the course.

Distance	Split	5k Time	Difference	Note
5 km	0:20:43	20:43		Warm-up / Verrazano Climb
10 km	0:40:52	20:09	-34s
15 km	1:01:14	20:22	+13s
20 km	1:21:31	20:17	-5s
Half	1:26:01			Faster half split than 2024 by 1m26s
25 km	1:42:01	20:30	+13s
30 km	2:02:02	20:01	-29s	Fastest 5km
35 km	2:22:32	20:30	+29s
40 km	2:43:30	20:58	+28s	Effortful Central Park hills
Finish	2:52:33			+32 seconds positive split

Nicholas Thompson in his new book, The Running Ground, pointed out that a marathon runner spends about half of the time in the air. Indeed, I spent 44.7% of the 26.2 mile course flying:

\[ \frac{\mbox{running time} - (\frac{\mbox{race distance}}{\mbox{stride distance}} * \mbox{ground contact time})}{\mbox{running time}} = \mbox{\% of time in air} \]\[ \frac{\mbox{2h52m33s} - (\frac{\mbox{42.2km}}{\mbox{1.37m}} * \mbox{193ms})}{\mbox{2h52m33s}} = \mbox{44.7\%} \]

Post-Race

I’ve made it a tradition to meet up with my friends who are still in the New York City area after the marathon. This year, I chose Moody Tongue Pizza, a sister restaurant to Moody Tongue, a Michelin-starred restaurant in Chicago and brewers of culinary-forward beer. We ended up having the entire back room to ourselves for a private dining feeling.

We parted ways, but I stopped at Augurs Well Bar next door, which has a great beer list, and hung out with a few groups in the small space that were all celebrating their own marathon finishers. I eventually headed back to Central Park to cheer some of the last runners on toward the finish line. A stop at Kati Roll on the way back to my apartment capped off the night.

The next morning, I collected a handful of Los Tacos No. 1 breakfast burritos and a calorie-filled mocha latte from Blue Bottle before heading back to Boulder.

Songs Like 7 Years by Saosin or Sorry You're Not a Winner by Enter Shikari

NYC Marathon 2025