Reflections on the New York Marathon

As a lifelong New Yorker, the marathon can be a disorienting experience. It’s not the closed streets and travel disruptions. Those are just a typical weekend around these parts. No, it’s the festive atmosphere, the general feeling of goodwill in the air, and all the encouragement that are so jarring to one’s jaded sensibility.

Last year was my first time covering the race. I went to Long Island City and realized that the marathon isn’t really a race. How many of the thousands of spectators care who wins? How many leave and go home once the winners reach Central Park just two hours into the festivities? None. There was a live band, funny signs, constant cheering in a steady rain. This went on for hours, and well after I was worn down by the cheer, everyone else’s spirits remained high.

This year, I went to the Upper East Side’s portion of the route. I looked for a good spot on First Avenue at 60^th Street to catch the leading women and men as they passed.

I got there early by my standards for a Sunday morning, but apparently not by anyone else’s, because it was packed. As the trams to Roosevelt Island steadily passed overhead next to the 59^th Street Bridge, I realized I would need to cross First Avenue for one of those sweet empty spots up against the railing on the other side.

A cop told me to cross at 59^th Street. As I started my trek, I did my best to not let all the extra walking around barricades and amid throngs of people get to me.

The walking was slow. I like to walk fast. But I made it across and found an open spot near 61^st Street, next to a woman who had fastened a Spanish flag to the barricade. Its bright yellow sections popped out and matched the leaves on the rows of trees going along First Avenue.

People stood on steps and benches, any spot they could get. But there was no pushing or jostling. Everyone was polite, and friendly. What was going on?

Cheers rippled up to us as a wheelchair participant approached and passed. People were coming out onto their fire escapes for good views. I didn’t see any funny signs, but a marching band could be heard a block away, adding to the party. 

There was no mention of politics anywhere. It was a nice break, even as the midterms were days away.

There was one familiar comfort: the occasional cigarette smoker, standing near me for the sole purpose of infuriating me and making sure I couldn’t comfortably breathe. And to smoke near marathon runners? Come on.

Soon enough, a small group of the leading women came and went, then the leading men passed by shortly after. It was exciting as each group approached, but it lasted just a minute, then it was done, and it was again clear that winning wasn’t what this was all about.

After the leaders passed shortly after 11 a.m., I decided to head west on 59^th to join the route near its end at the bottom of Central Park.

Crossing First Avenue, I marveled at the blocked off street. No cars! I could walk down the middle if I wanted.

Call it a kind of instant karma, but I then got into the biggest pedestrian traffic jam I’ve ever experienced as I tried to walk on 59^th Street. Some were trying to get away from the route, others were trying to come to it, as the sidewalk narrowed and too many were just standing and spectating, not interested in moving.

Few things infuriate me more than traffic, but I had to smile because of how silly the whole thing was. I was standing on a sidewalk and couldn’t move, surrounded in every direction by blocked off streets. Don’t worry, I thought, this is part of the experience. Of course, next time I’ll be sure to go up another block and walk across 58^th Street. 

 (Runners entering Manhattan from the 59th Street Bridge)

It was easier to find a good spot along 59^th Street at the base of the park. I missed the leading women but saw the winning man, Lelisa Desisa, pass by just minutes before his victory. 

That was pretty cool. But again, hardly the point. New York City loves a winner, loves the biggest and the best. But those words don’t matter as much for this particular New York spectacle.

My dad ran the marathon in 1979 and ’80, so I’ve heard tales of doing it for the challenge and sense of accomplishment. Back then, there were just over 11,000 participants, while these days there are over 50,000 every year. Now there are corporate sponsors, as would be expected.

And yes, it is the biggest and perhaps most famous marathon in the world, just the way New York would want it. But only when I finally went in person, to hear the joyful cheers for people who wouldn’t win and would never be famous, did I understand why it’s special.

The Second Avenue Subway

These are strange times we're living in. 

I am of course referring to the Second Avenue subway, which now actually exists and runs in real life. Well, the first section of it does, anyway. But the fact that any of it is open and operating is really rather remarkable. 

The Second Avenue subway was first proposed in 1919 but then not built due to the Great Depression, followed by World War II, and then other funding issues throughout the decades. There were elevated trains that ran along Second and Third Avenues that the subway line was meant to replace. Even though the underground line wasn't built in the 20th century, the elevated lines were destroyed to increase property values, Second Avenue in 1942 and Third Avenue in 1955. 

This left just one line on the east side of Manhattan, which is insane. The line's 4, 5 and 6 trains carried 1.3 million people daily as of 2015, easily making it the most used subway line in the country. 

The first phase of the new Second Avenue line cost $4.5 billion and opened on January 1, 2017, with the Q train running to new stations at 72nd, 86th and 96th Streets, and also connecting at the station at 63rd and Lexington Avenue. 

Phase 2 would extend up to the line's northernmost section in East Harlem, with stations at 106th, 116th and 125th Streets. This phase has only received some initial funding for preparatory planning work but there are no definite dates for construction.

Phase 3 would extend the line all the way down to Houston Street on the Lower East Side, and Phase 4 would go down to its southern end at Hanover Square in the Wall Street area. Phases 3 and 4 don't have funding or any kind of timeline.

It took 98 years between the line being proposed in 1919 and Phase 1 opening in 2017. At that rate, Phase 2 would open in 2115, Phase 3 in 2213, and Phase 4 in 2311. I think the MTA should announce those dates as the planned openings so that any work completed before then would be a pleasant surprise. 

The three new stations that opened this year all have the same design and basic layout, with escalators and elevators going down to the turnstiles, followed by a long walkway that runs the length of the station and has stairs leading down to the train platform.

You can see in the photos that "E Pluribus Unum" can be read on one side of a slab that runs over the platform area. The other side says "Excelsior," which is Latin for 'Good luck getting to your destination safely and on time.' Actually it means 'Ever Upward' and is the state motto.

The escalators that run from street level down to the entrances were really long, at least the ones I rode at 72nd and 86th Streets. They reminded me of the escalators in the Washington, D.C. Metro, though maybe they weren't quite that long.

The notable difference among the new stations is the artwork, with each having a different artist's work on display.

At 72nd Street, the artwork is by Vik Muniz and called Perfect Strangers. It is a series of glass mosaic life-size portraits scattered throughout the station that are very realistic and often amusing or quirky in some way. Muniz had people he knows pose as different characters for the portraits and they definitely liven up the station.

Muniz is a Brazilian artist who actually appears as a man fumbling amidst scattered papers (and a calculator). His son also posed as a guy dressed in a tiger suit and holding a plastic bag.

Here are some more of the mosaics followed by a close-up of the tile work.

There is also a mosaic portrait at street level with a balloon flying above. It is just at the entrance to the escalators. 

At the opposite corner of the intersection is another entrance to the station, this one without escalators but only a long series of elevators. There was more art here, with a man at street level and birds flying above the elevators. All of these images seemed more photographic than mosaic, so I don't know if they were also by Vik Muniz or a different artist.

The art at the 86th Street station is by Chuck Close and is called Subway Portraits.  There are 12 works, 10 in mosaics and 2 in ceramic tiles. The portraits are very detailed and life-like, with each having its own style and some even being out of focus to varying degrees. The subjects are artists, and I admit that I only recognized two of them: a self-portrait and one of Lou Reed, the legendary musician who died in 2013.  

Here's a close-up of the self-portrait, where you can get a sense of how many small tiles make up the overall image.

Here are some of the other portraits, including Kara Walker, Cecily Brown and Alex Katz.

At ground level near the escalators is a portrait of Cindy Sherman, very out of focus, and Philip Glass is overhead as people make the escalator descent. 

Here is an entrance to the 86th Street station. It's nothing too fancy but it gets the job done.

The art at the 96th Street station does not have any portraits and is more abstract. It is by Sarah Sze and called "Blueprint for a Landscape." It consists of blue and white images that span across the station's different sections and levels, and almost seems like one big illustration that is a mishmash of all the different elements of the city thrown together and in motion. 

Here is a look at some of the artwork:

At the other end of the station there were images of birds near the escalators:

And in the concourse there were blowing papers along both sides:

Recent numbers have shown the Second Avenue subway line to be a success thus far, with daily ridership at 176,000 in the first half of May 2017. That is up from 124,000 during its first month of operation in January. Starting this November, the MTA will add an extra Q train to run downtown during the morning rush hour and an extra Q going uptown during the busy evening commute. 

More good news is that along with the Second Avenue line growing its numbers, it is easing the burden on 4, 5 and 6 trains at the four closest Lexington Avenue stations: daily ridership overall is down 26 percent and down 40 percent during the morning commuter rush.  

That is a bit of welcome positive news for commuters dealing with a subway system that has been in crisis mode of late, not to mention all the problems with other train systems that run into the city. The next phases of the Second Avenue line may be on hold for a while with much of the city's infrastructure dangerously outdated and overwhelmed, but at least Phase 1 is open and making travel more bearable on the east side. And the artwork is pretty cool too.   

Alice in Wonderland in Manhattan

It's hard to know why a work of art endures and continues to captivate across generations, but Alice in Wonderland has certainly done that, and not just with children and psychedelic enthusiasts. The fantastical, often trippy characters are about as embedded in our collective subconscious as any figures from any stories in the English language. 

Lewis Carroll's real name was Charles Lutwidge Dodgson and he was a British mathematician. He wrote Alice's Adventures in Wonderland in 1865 and then its 1871 sequel, Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There. 

The first book recently celebrated its 150th anniversary. The world has changed a lot since 1865, perhaps more than any other stretch of time in human history. In 1865 I don't think they even had the internet.

So why have the stories and their characters endured for so long? I wouldn't know how to begin trying to answer that, but what I do know is that New York City has paid tribute to Alice and co. in a few different ways. 

At the 50th Street subway station on the 1 train there are four ceramic mosaics that pay tribute to Carroll's characters, with two on the uptown platform and two on the downtown side. The 1994 works are by Liliana Porter and are called "Alice: The Way Out."

This last one is the most surreal and my favorite of the bunch:

Perhaps the most well-known Alice tribute in the city is the statue in Central Park, near the entrance at East 76th Street and Fifth Avenue. 

It is was presented to the city in 1959 by the George and Margarita Delacorte Foundation. The immediate area where the statue is located is called the Margarita Delacorte Memorial.

George Delacorte was a philanthropist who made many other contributions to the city, including the clock near the Central Park Zoo with a carousel of dancing, musical animals.

This statue is a popular tourist spot. When I visited recently there were many people, both adults and children, taking photos and climbing on the figures. A tour group stopped by, and a nearby sign offered information on a free celebrity audio guide from Whoopi Goldberg. 

I appreciated the statue's attention to detail, including having ridges on the undersides of the mushrooms.

A third Alice tribute is a very short walk from this statue: just inside the previously mentioned park entrance at East 76th Street is a children's playground that features Alice in Wonderland figures as part of a water spraying fountain.


Coming back to the statue area, it is at the northern edge of a pond called Conservatory Water.

And as a final note, there is a statue of Hans Christian Andersen along the western edge of the pond. He was a Danish writer best known for his fairy tales, which included "The Ugly Duckling," "The Little Mermaid," and "The Emperor's New Clothes."

The open book in the statue shows a passage from "The Ugly Duckling," and there is an inscription on the top hat next to Andersen that credits the architect and sculptor.

 

There is also an inscription on the back of the statue, which reads, "This monument is the gift of the children of Denmark and New York City and their friends/1956/Sponsored by The Danish-American Women's Association/Baroness Alma Dahlerup founder."

This statue had fewer visitors than Alice and was a quiet area along the water that would be nice to visit or just for a short break during the day. In fact, the entire pond area is relaxing, and the two fairy tale statues certainly add to its charm. 

The subway station at 50th Street might not be quite as relaxing, but the Alice mosaics are worth slowing down for if you happen to be passing by.