After six days of precarious dangling 74 stories above the ground, the damaged construction crane alongside 157 W. 57th St. was secured on Sunday. The crane’s 150-foot boom snapped in the middle of Hurricane Sandy’s strong winds, which left it suspended by only a few metal beams at its base as it swung over the many residential buildings below. The city evacuated at-risk residents on West 56th and 57th streets between Sixth and Seventh avenues after the snap, then set to work figuring out how to handle the unwieldy danger.

The Department of Buildings and Pinnacle Industries, the crane’s owner, reportedly spent 36 hours on Sunday turning the crane’s mast so that the wayward boom could be tethered to the residential building. Most locals—many angered over the week by the repair’s slow progress—were allowed back into their homes on Monday.

GAS LINES STRETCH MORE THAN SIX BLOCKS

Upper West Siders in need of gas endured lines six blocks and beyond on Sunday, six days into a regional fuel shortage in the wake of Hurricane Sandy that has many citygoers on edge. The shortage persisted despite assurances from Mayor Michael Bloomberg and Gov. Andrew Cuomo last week that supplies would return to normal soon, so many residents found themselves with multiple hours to kill over the weekend along West End Avenue from around West 101st Street to the Mobil station around the corner on W. 96th Street.

According to the West Side Rag, the line stretched so far that gas station attendants had to close it off on Sunday around 2:30 p.m. to ensure that everyone in line received a portion of their dwindling supply. The line mirrored traffic jams across the city caused by fuel demand. At many stations, police were on duty to keep the gas-hungry from getting out of control.

MARATHON CANCELED; RUNNERS RACE FOR STORM RELIEF

Amid fervid debate over whether or not the New York Marathon should be run in the wake of Hurricane Sandy, Mayor Michael Bloomberg announced the cancellation of the Nov. 4 event last Friday. Bloomberg, who first supported the race after the storm, maintained that the 26.2-mile run through the city’s five boroughs would not divert resources from storm recovery efforts.

Nevertheless, he said, the controversy surrounding the event—which over 26,000 New Yorkers protested by signing an online petition—was too much of a distraction from the families and homes that needed aid.

“It is clear that it has become the source of controversy and division,” Bloomberg said in the announcement. “The marathon has always brought our city together and inspired us with stories of courage and determination. We would not want a cloud to hang over the race or its participants, and so we have decided to cancel it.”

Many racers, however, decided not to let the cancellation darken their day, either. About 2,000 of the race’s 50,000 registered participants showed up in Central Park on Sunday morning to raise money for relief efforts by running laps around the park’s main road loop. (Four laps around the park about equals the marathon’s distance, and in fact used to be the New York Marathon’s course.) Other runners headed down to Staten Island to help families in damaged neighborhoods.

So, to get his groove back, Butcher decided—oddly enough—to take up ultramarathoning.

He ran his first 50-kilometer (31-mile) race, the Long Island Greenbelt Trail 50, in 2003. On the course, he allowed himself to slow down and enjoy the scenery. “Once I did that, I really fell in love with it,” says Butcher, 44. He’s run five ultras since, including the Viaduct Trail Ultramarathon in Pennsylvania last year, a 100-miler that lasted nearly 24 hours.

“I just couldn’t stay awake—I was weaving, walking through weeds on the side of the trail,” Butcher says. Eventually, he sat down on the roadside and slept for a couple of minutes, before finishing the race.

Some runners have strong opinions on going even one toenail farther than a traditional marathon: Crazy. Nuts. Why? But a growing number of runners like Butcher are embracing the ultramarathon, which is loosely defined as any race longer than 26.2 miles, to return to what they say is running in its simplest form—and to escape the explosive popularity of marathons in recent decades.

In 2008, over 17,000 people in the United States finished at least one ultramarathon, a 20 percent jump from 2007, according to Tia Bodington, editor of UltraRunning magazine. Last year, 503 ultra races were held all over North America, the majority of them in California. They can have a handful of competitors or, in the case of the annual JFK 50-Mile race in Maryland, as many as 1,000. While almost three-quarters of the runners are men, female competitors are becoming more common.

“It’s kind of like the new frontier,” Bodington says. “So many people have done a marathon, it is like, what is next? What is it like to go farther? Where would my brain go?”

Ultra distances usually range from 50 kilometers to 100 miles, but there are no limits. Some races are based on a time limit—with some as long as 48 hours—rather than a fixed distance.

“For some people, something like a marathon is just not going to provide the stimulus that really gets their systems going anymore,” says Marvin Zauderer, a sports psychology consultant in San Francisco.

Thomas Wong ran his first ultra, the Knickerbocker 60K in New York, in 2008. Slogging through the drizzly, chilly, and sparsely attended loops, he knew he was hooked on something greater. “It’s not the speed that matters to me,” says Wong, 39, who hopes to complete in the Canadian Death Race, a brutal 125K ultra with an elevation gain of over 17,000 feet in the Canadian Rockies, this August. “To push yourself to finish those distances takes a different mentality.”

Compared with the emotions involved in running a traditional marathon, Wong says, in which one feels a predictable cycle of pain and elation over the course of a few hours, a Zen-like “nothing” overtakes his mind during an ultra. “Hope,” he says, is the only “driving force.”

But ultra-racing indicates not just a different mentality, according to Zauderer. He believes the rise in the sport’s popularity has coincided with an overall increase in physical ability. “We as human beings and athletes are growing in capability,” he says. “We’re living longer. We’re in better shape—some of us. When we wreck things on our body, many of them are more easily repaired.”

Pete McCall, a physiologist with the American Council on Exercise, says he’s seen a tendency toward extremes in athletics as a whole, from the X Games, an extreme sport tournament, to a greater frequency of hard hits in the NFL, to more explosive performances in track and field. Whereas people used to train gradually for one or two years leading up to a marathon or ultramarathon, McCall says, today they do so in months, even weeks.

A case in point: Thomas Wong ran the Knickerbocker ultra just two weeks after running his first marathon.

Ultras are usually held on trails rather than roads—“It’s kind of like a long walk in the woods,” says Bodington, “except you’re running and you’re focused and you’re with a group of like-minded people”—and many are put on by volunteers. There are minimal crowds and no schwag bags. More often than not, trees outnumber bystanders. For its devotees, the ultra is a refreshing return to the basics.

“It’s been said that, in a marathon,” you come to “know a lot about yourself,” says Lucimar Araujo, 52, who took up running as a sport shortly after moving to New York from Brazil in 1997. “When you do an ultra, I say, you learn about yourself and you know about everybody else.” Araujo has run more than 20 ultras since. They provide a special camaraderie, she says. The runners talk to one other, offer support and encouragement, take breaks together. Araujo herself likes to hug trees along the way, a practice she says renews her energy levels.

Ultras are often grassroots affairs. Last fall Glenn Butcher decided he wanted to host his own 100-kilometer race in New Jersey. He began heading out on training runs with a GPS unit to chart a suitable course. He put together a website and forwarded an email to running friends. Butcher expected to attract about 30 runners, but so far 65 have registered for the inaugural South Mountain 100K, which will be held on three, 20.7-mile loops within the South Mountain Reservation in Essex County this May.

“Each one,” he says of ultramarathons, “is a great adventure.”

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A calendar of regional ultramarathons can be found at www.ultrarunning.com.

Peter Walsh eventually completed the New York City Marathon, but he never succeeded in outpacing his twin daughters. Now both 16, Alice and Dana Walsh are two of the best high school runners in the city and have long since moved on from jogs with their father to speedy training runs on their own.

Peter Walsh introduced daughters Dana (pictured) and Alice to running; both have since outpaced him.

“We do everything in unison,” Alice said while seated alongside Dana in a room at Convent of the Sacred Heart on the Upper East Side, where the two are juniors. “We got really competitive. We did the same events, and once we started we realized we wanted to win, not just have fun. In 8th grade, we started training much harder. Running has become a part of us. It’s one of my favorite things to do, even though I know a lot of people would think that’s crazy.”

Sacred Heart is a small school, with only about 50 students in each grade, but the Walsh twins have helped its cross country and track and field teams achieve outsized accomplishments. Earlier this month, Dana finished second at the New York State Association of Independent Schools (NYSAIS) Cross Country Championships, with a time of 20 minutes, nine seconds over five kilometers (Alice was out with a knee injury). At the track and field championships last spring, Dana won the 800 and 1,500 meters, while Alice finished second in the 400 hurdles. And they teamed up to lead Sacred Heart to second place in the 4×400 relay. Dana also holds league records in the 400, 800 and 1,500, while Alice has her heart set on capturing the 400 hurdles mark this spring.

And in perhaps her most impressive feat, Dana won the 1,500 and set a new meet record in April at the Mayor’s Cup, a competition for both public and independent school students in New York City. Alice finished eighth in the 400 hurdles.
For both of them, the path to excellence began with their father and took a big step forward during a two-mile race at the NYSAIS Championships in 7th grade.

“I wasn’t doing well,” Dana said, “but then Alice was screaming from the sideline, ‘You’re going too slow.’ And that’s when I realized that in running you shouldn’t be comfortable at any point in the race.”

The duo’s teamwork has been similar ever since. They fit the common stereotype of identical twins, often finishing each other’s sentences. But when it comes to competition, their skills are complementary. Though they tend not to run in the same events, they both vividly remember a 400-meter race four years ago that came down to the wire, with both diving headfirst across the line.
“We used to be really competitive,” Dana said. “Now, we just help each other out. I help her in training and try to push her to work harder.”

“And I help her calm down when I think she’s going to pass out from being nervous,” Alice added. “I always tell her that she’s definitely going to win. She’s always been better than me, and I used to be kind of jealous. But now I just use it to motivate myself to work harder. It’s a good thing. We work together, push each other. Having someone train next to you only makes you better.”
Despite their cheerful, bubbly nature, the twins’ shared intensity is obvious. In the fall, while their friends play soccer, they run hill repeats to get ready for the cross-country course in Van Cortlandt Park. For three straight summers, they have attended a weeklong running camp upstate. And when they ran into Kara Goucher, an Olympian and the third-place finisher in the New York City Marathon several weeks ago, during a training trip to Florida, they managed to stay alongside her for a lap.

Dana, meanwhile, carries enormous expectations for herself. She considers 8th grade her only successful fall season, even though she won the NYSAIS title as a freshman and finished second this year. At Nike Nationals, an elite track competition for the best high school runners in the country, she won the freshman mile two seasons ago. Running the mile again last June, however, she fainted midway through the race.

“It was about 95 degrees and so humid,” Dana said. “I just saw black and went down. I had the 800 the next day, and everyone was telling me not to do it. But I said, ‘I didn’t fly to North Carolina not to race.’ I got a personal record.”

“This is normal,” Alice said with a shrug. “It becomes completely about your mentality. I love track and cross country because there are times when you’re by yourself, and how well you do is entirely in your control.”

The Walsh twins had time for an interview last Friday because classes were canceled for parent-teacher meetings. But instead of spending the rest of the day relaxing, they promptly zipped up a pair of windbreakers and decided to go for a training run in Central Park, conveniently located about 50 feet from Sacred Heart’s front door.

“I think we’re going to do five,” Alice said.

Five kilometers? In ice-cold weather and freezing wind?

“File miles.”

And off they went.

Kim Dittrich said she felt motivated to run the marathon after volunteering several times.

I had decided to get an up-close look at the marathon by volunteering at one of the dozens of stations that litter the course. These stops usually offer water, Gatorade, first aid and sometimes wet sponges for cooling purposes. None of it would be possible without thousands of volunteers, who often show up just to be part of the big day.
“I’ve volunteered on two other occasions, either at the start or the finish line,” said Victor de Leon, who was in charge of the water table where I was working. “I just wanted to be part of the marathon experience. If you can’t run, it’s the next best thing. Because I volunteered a couple of times, I got to cheer for the runners and see the excitement. After that, running the marathon became one of my big goals.”
De Leon accomplished that goal last year, and one of his biggest thrills was getting to see his friends volunteer in support of his run. On Sunday, he was leading a group of about 15 from the Philippine-New York Junior Chamber (the Jaycees), an organization that supports leadership training and has been sending volunteers to the marathon for about 10 years.
The last time I volunteered at the marathon was 1999, and there have been plenty of advances during the intervening years. When I arrived at 9 a.m. on Sunday, for example, almost everything was already set up. I imagined that I would spend time dragging tables into place and hauling trash barrels and boxes of cups around, but the New York Road Runners staff and some very committed volunteers had already taken care of that during the pre-dawn hours.

Adam Bloch rakes up slippery, discarded cups at the corner of 77th Street and First Avenue.

Metal barricades and sawhorses sealed off the course, and a DJ was just about to start playing some pump-up music. Nine years ago, there were no sponges, and the water came from a nearby hydrant. These days, Poland Spring provides the water. There’s no way to escape the company’s presence, thanks to a 20-foot-tall water bottle and enough flags and banners to carpet all 26.2 miles. We were even instructed to make sure the cups were placed on the table so that the Poland Spring logo faced forward.
Sonya, a Road Runners staff member with a contagious sense of excitement, soon had me filling cups with water. Alongside several others, I poured and poured until I covered a table with several hundred carefully arranged cups. Then we covered them with a piece of cardboard and started all over again. Eventually, we had three layers of cups waiting for the runners.
And when those runners finally arrived, coming up First Avenue behind a convoy of police motorcycles and TV vans with helicopters overhead, the sense of growing excitement was electrifying. The male and female leaders blazed past in tight packs with a sense of professional focus, but the wheelchair and handcycle competitors lingered at times. Overwhelmed by the cheers cascading through the urban canyon, they beamed and often waved back.
There are always plenty of people to hand out water, so once the trickle of runners became an unending human wave, I mostly busied myself by filling up more cups and raking some of the discarded ones off the road. The clean-up work can be even more onerous than setting everything up. I spent about an hour flattening cardboard boxes and stomping on plastic water jugs to make them easier to haul away.
Why would anyone want to do this type of work?
“It’s a chance to be part of something huge in the community,” Florina Monroy-Sullivan, another Jaycee representative, said of volunteering. “It can be an amazing experience, seeing these handicapped or senior citizen runners go by running mile after mile. It makes you believe you can do anything.”
Kim Dittrich, who was handing out water with her daughter, Kristina, felt similarly inspired. Like de Leon, she also felt motivated to run the marathon after volunteering several times.
“It was kind of a no-brainer. After seeing all kinds of people—blind, handicapped, old young—run the marathon, it made me want to run it,” she said. “I had a torn meniscus. It was tough. I wanted to quit so many times, but I ended up doing the 2006 marathon in four hours, 10 seconds at 44 years old. I was high-fiving everyone with a huge smile on my face. You let the energy of the crowd carry you.”
And the energy and hard work of the volunteers, too.