Cheering a marathon isn't easy either

Pre-race necessities — super-sleek sunglasses, water bottle, layers of clothes, new sneakers, timing watch, course map and granola bar — check. Ignoring any negative thoughts about my ability to handle what the day's race had in store, I refused to acknowledge the butterflies fluttering in my stomach and instead concentrated on preparing myself mentally.

"Keep running! You can do it!" I whispered. "You're amazing. I'm so proud of you. Just 16.2 miles to go. Go go go!"

A slightly befuddled, if not concerned, look appeared on the face of the woman in front of me as she inched as far away as the train ticket line would allow.

"Oh no, I'm not talking to myself," I quickly explained. "My friends are running in the New York Marathon later today, and I'm just practicing. I want to make sure I'm ready with the perfect cheers."

As my explanation seemed slightly less than satisfactory to this anonymous fellow traveler, I shut my mouth and immersed myself in the marathon spectator guide, determined to memorize every direction in the unlikely event that my backpack was stolen and I was left mapless.

Though I was raised in a town only 40 minutes north of NYC and I have spent the past two summers in Manhattan, I would by no means call myself an expert in maneuvering around the city. To add to my growing sense of Lewis and Clarkian responsibility, I had offered to lead a number of other people on our cheering expedition.

Our plans, forged more than a week earlier, were ambitious. Not only were we scheduled to catch the 8:38 a.m. Dinky, meaning that our alarm clocks would be set to the earliest hour we had experienced all break, but we were also planning on cheering when our friends — seniors Kelly Johnson, Dawn Leaness and Alex Nee — ran by three locations along the 26.2-mile route. I knew that bouncing from Penn Station to Mile Eight (in Brooklyn) to Mile 18 (on the Upper East Side) and to the finish line (on the opposite side of Central Park) would take precise timing and complex coordination, and I was up to the challenge.

I recognize that training for a marathon is difficult, tedious and punishing — but what about the efforts that fans put in before big events? Preparations for my support position started months in advance. I woke up at 5:45 a.m. to bike alongside my friends on one of their 18-mile preparatory runs, dodging the ever-present roadkill on Route 206 and sprinting up hills that felt like mountains to leap off the bike and position myself for a clean water-bottle handoff. I spent hours perusing marathon message boards; I was glued to subway maps; I memorized routes and alternate routes; I checked weather.com for any freak storm or temperature change, laying the foundation for a faultlessly prepared Big Day.

Which brings me back to our train's arrival in Penn Station at 9:53 a.m. on Nov. 6 when these extensive preparations were put to the ultimate test. Serving as a rabbit for our pack of cheerers, I set what I thought was a brisk but manageable pace, only to have one of my roommates berate me for what she felt was speed-walking of Olympic proportions, minus the intense arm swinging and exaggerated rear wiggle.

Still, with our seamless subway connections, we made it to our first stop easily, only to find that hundreds of other interested friends and family members had made the exact same plans. They, however, had arrived a good two hours earlier, clogging both sides of the street as far as the eye could see.

We inched our way to a position among the second group of spectators. Though we had missed the lead packs of elite men and women runners, the first trickle of harriers we saw still breezed by us at five-minute-mile paces.

Suddenly, the fairly wide avenue was packed curb-to-curb with a steady stream of humanity running shoulder-to-shoulder. Those who had written their names on their shirts or arms were the smart and identifiable ones; after we tired of yelling general words of encouragement, we started cheering for specific individuals, receiving quick nods, smiles or waves for our increasingly croaky roars.

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I managed to completely botch my first filming attempt, forgetting that good videographers don't jump up and down after pushing the record button. I sprinted four blocks down the course to try to redeem myself. Though I was able to catch another glimpse of my friends and give one of my pre-practiced yells, there was no way I could capture their trek down Lafayette Avenue on film.

Following a long subway ride and a successful viewing at Mile 18, we finally stopped for a late lunch and energy boost. Realizing that two hours remained prior to our intrepid friends' triumphant crossing of the finish line, we hiked crosstown, past the Met, through sidewalk art shows and into Central Park.

We stumbled upon Mile 24 just minutes before the nine-minute mile runners were scheduled to pass. For the first time all day, we were directly on the side of the road. With just over two miles remaining for many of the 36,000 runners, our aching feet and increasing weariness paled in comparison to many of the trials they were facing.

This deviation from my otherwise strictly regimented schedule proved to be the most rewarding of the trip. We finally were able to get a great view of all of the runners and even stage the perfect video shot. Still, the best part was the ability to pass out innumerable high fives to unknown but certainly not unappreciated marathon runners.

Unable to wedge into the sea of people in the Family Reunion Area, we finally mobbed our friends at around 3:00 p.m., half an hour after they had completed the marathon in just over four and a half hours. Our adrenaline spent, we trudged to the nearest subway station and crashed on the train ride back to Princeton. Varsity cheering is hard work, and congratulations should be extended to the 10 of us who excelled in that venture.

And Dawn, Kelly and Alex didn't do too badly for themselves either.