Race lifts spirits of New York
Emotional marathon brings 'more normalcy' to 25,000-plus runners

By JILL LIEBER
USA Today
Nov. 5, 2001

NEW YORK – Shortly before 11 a.m. Sunday, as Mayor Rudy Giuliani sounded the traditional starting cannon for the 32nd New York City Marathon and dozens of white doves soared into a pale blue sky, more than 25,000 runners, packed shoulder-to-shoulder on the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, almost simultaneously looked over at the gaping hole in lower Manhattan where the World Trade Center once stood.

For many, the sight of the smoky ruins was a reminder of why they had come. "This isn't a race," said New York Marathon start coordinator Vic Navarra, a retired firefighter. "This is about life, about getting back to the future, about letting the world know that this is truly a great city."

It was a message proclaimed unabashedly, from blue "United We Run" ribbons to "I Love N.Y." pins. T-shirts displayed the names and faces of terrorist victims, along with American flags and pictures of the Twin Towers. Anti-terrorist metaphors abounded: "26.2 miles – I can't be stopped."

In the end, Tesfaye Jifar posted a record time of 2 hours, 7 minutes, 43 seconds to become the first Ethiopian to win the race. The record of 2:08:01 by Juma Ikangaa of Tanzania had stood since 1989.

Jifar, who at 12 was blinded in his right eye by a bull's horn, built a lead of more than 20 seconds over Kenya's Japhet Kosgei, runner-up for the second consecutive year.

Among the women, winner Margaret Okayo of Kenya also set a race record at 2:24:21.

But since Sept. 11, this annual rite of fall had long become more about new beginnings than finish lines, personal bests or even records.

"All Americans have wounded hearts," Kosgei, 33, said before the race. Two of his friends, who worked at the U.S. Embassy in Nairobi, were injured when a terrorist bomb destroyed the facility in 1998, killing hundreds of people. Like the attacks of Sept. 11, the Kenya bombing was blamed on Osama bin Laden and his followers. "We've gone on. I came to show New Yorkers that you can cope with terrorism. When they cheer for me, when they show me they're happy, I feel like I'm bringing them together."

Joan Benoit Samuelson, the 1984 Olympic marathon champion, said that until Sept. 11 she hadn't intended to run a fall race. "It was very moving," she said. "Every time I went by a firehouse, I couldn't help but tip my hat."

Amid tight security and the cheers of 3 million spectators lining the sidewalks, runners traced a single blue line as it wound through the five boroughs – from Staten Island to Brooklyn to Queens to the Bronx and into Manhattan – and broadened into a red, white and blue line in Central Park heading to the finish at the Tavern on the Green restaurant.

Unprecedented security

Runners were told not to accept cups of water from spectators lining the course, as they have in previous years. The unprecedented security also included more than 2,800 police officers and a no-flight zone banning private airplanes over the marathon route.

None of the security dampened spirits. David Carpluk of Washington, D.C., ran the entire way carrying an American flag and figured the flag added half an hour to his usual 3-hour marathon time.

Jane Weeks, a freelance artist in Greenwich Village, had trained for the race along the Hudson River, running on a path to and from the Twin Towers. "I am the people of New York, and this is about our future," she said. "This is about embracing the changes in our lives because of the events of Sept. 11."

On the sidewalks, too, the sentiment was stars and stripes forever. The sedentary patriots were waving signs with the words "Proud to be an American," "Alive and Well," "New York Keeps on Running" and "Thanks for Coming Back."

Near the Queensboro Bridge, Andrea Whitaker led a squad of 15 cheerleaders, who waved pom-poms and hollered for everyone who sprinted or stumbled by. "Right now we need something to cheer about," said Whitaker, 25, a cabaret singer.

At all of the intersections, which were blocked by New York Police Department barricades and guarded by New York Fire Department hook and ladder trucks, it was all about high-fives and thumbs-ups. And if you were one of the 329 police officers or 104 firefighters running in the race, fuhgeddabboudit.

"My arm was more tired than my legs," said firefighter Larry Parker, who started dead last and ended up passing 23,741 people. Race sponsor JP Morgan Chase had pledged to pay $5 for every person Parker passed, so he raised $118,705 for the New York Firefighters Widows' and Children's Fund. "Everybody was yelling 'Go, FDNY! Go, FDNY!' I just had to wave back!"

Adam Kaufmann and Brian Sampson, would-be marathoners sidelined by injuries, cheered loudly and for everyone. If your name was on your shirt – Kelly, J.T., Walt, Jackie, Jeff – Kaufmann and Sampson cheered you on by name. And if you were wearing an "I Love New York" T-shirt, Sampson couldn't be contained. "New York loves you!" he yelled.

The runners in this year's marathon came from 100 countries, all 50 U.S. states and the District of Columbia. They came from places that have burst into the headlines since Sept. 11: Pakistan (with five runners), Uzbekistan (one), Israel (23), Syria (one) and Egypt (one).

And they came from every walk of life affected by the attacks, from law enforcement officials (329) and firefighters (104) to doctors and nurses (1,278), accountants (1,026), financial analysts (707), stockbrokers (394), flight attendants (54) and U.S. military (85).

This was their afternoon of resilience, their show of defiance, their way to give back and, above all else, their response to the question asked of every marathoner, at one time or another: Why, on earth, would you want to run 26.2 miles?

At least 10 people ran in place of relatives killed Sept. 11, and still more ran to honor the dead. Brian Brennan ran his first marathon on behalf of his brother Michael, a Manhattan firefighter, and a friend, Lt. Vinnie Giammona, who still are missing at the Trade Center.

A slim, blond woman ran wearing a gray T-shirt, which read, "Donald Robson, 9-11-01. Father, husband, friend. We miss you."

Steve Comber, 43, a veteran marathoner from Clifton, Va., hadn't planned to race this fall. But he changed his mind after his nephew, Rob Peraza, a 30-year-old trader at Cantor Fitzgerald, died in the World Trade Center.

Comber had been coaching Peraza for this race. It would have been his first marathon. While visiting Peraza's apartment a few days after the tragedy, Comber saw the training log he'd written, tacked above Peraza's bed, checked off day-by-day.

"My sister Suzanne, Rob's mother, turned to me and said, 'Would you run the marathon for Rob?' " Comber recalled. "I remember trying hard to find some air to breathe. I mean, how can you say no? It was one of the things that had to be completed."

Comber was so determined to do well that he threw himself into a sudden training regimen, running far too many miles in far too short a time span these last 7 weeks. But he shook off the effects of a bad cold and nagging leg cramps to make it to the starting line, decked out in a T-shirt featuring a photograph of his smiling nephew. Beneath the picture: "We love you, Rob. Marathon man."

And pinned to Comber's chest was No. 18416, which originally had been issued to Peraza for the marathon. Two dozen of Peraza's family and friends, including Rob's fiancee, Megan Cressy, and his mother, Suzanne, met Comber at the finish line. All wore the same "marathon man" T-shirt.

"This is not about me," Comber said. "This is a way we can keep Rob with us. It's a celebration of Rob and his run. He did the first two-thirds, I just ran the last third."

Mike Tobin, 44, a retired firefighter from Staten Island, felt compelled to run for other reasons. As a member of Footlocker's Five Borough Challenge Team, Tobin was looking for a way to raise money for victims' families.

Footlocker selected five top local amateur marathoners, each living in a different borough, to run in the name of a local firehouse. Tobin was running for Rescue Company 5 in Staten Island, which lost five firefighters, including Mike Fiore, his childhood friend from Sacred Heart Grammar School.

The last time Tobin felt so compelled was Sept. 11, when he returned to his former firehouse, Engine 241, Ladder 109 in Brooklyn, several hours after the attacks, just to be with his brothers. The day after, he worked at Ground Zero, sifting through the rubble for bodies of the fallen heroes.

Running for 70 firefighters

Whenever Tobin returned home, after long, frustrating hours of rescue attempts, running became his release, his sanctuary.

"I had to stop several times because I'd well up," he said. "But running got me through the ups and downs. It brought me more normalcy."

In his pocket Sunday he carried a list of his 70 firefighting friends who died in the tragedy. Every mile, Tobin singled out a few names and focused on their lives, which helped get him through his 10th consecutive – and his most emotional – New York marathon. And each time he passed a firehouse on the course, especially his gang from Engine 241, Ladder 109, who turned out en masse in Brooklyn, he gave a thumbs-up.

"All I have to do is make eye contact," he explained about running past his fellow firefighters. "They know what I'm thinking."

This story was reported by Jill Lieber, Olivia Barker, Martha T. Moore and Theresa Howard (who ran part of the marathon). Douglas Stanglin contributed.

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