THANKS, SPECTATORS!

IN THE EARLY MORNING hours of Marathon Sunday, the nerves hit me even before I donned the shirt I made for the race, with "ALY" across my chest in hot-pink glittery letters.

- Jordan Kay

I've toed the lines at over 100 races, but nothing makes me as nervous as the New York City Marathon.

It's not a race for the faint of heart. The first mile-plus of the course is an uphill on the Verrazzano Bridge, spanning from Staten Island to Brooklyn. The entry points into Queens, the Bronx, and Manhattan? Those are bridges, too. This course doesn't let up until you cross the finish line in Central Park.

Every marathon is hard in its own way, of course, but even while NYC can be at its most brutal, there is electricity to it I've never experienced in any other race I've run. What makes the New York City Marathon different is the relationship between runner and spectator. You could be first, you could be last, but one thing is the same: Along the course, there will be thousands of strangers screaming the name you have written across your chest, pushing you to realize the dream that started months ago when you first laced up your shoes and started training.