New York was Nina's first marathon. I had run the New York Marathon before but this one was different. There was no way I was going to get through the race without laughing my tookus off! Everything Nina says is pretty much funny whether its self deprecating humor or she is mocking me. The New York Marathon was a large opportunity and a really good chance to truly get to know her. I was not disappointed. I was in fairly decent half marathon shape but this was the big show and I needed a secret weapon on the course. Nina tells me after we get over the Verrazano - Narrows Bridge and into Brooklyn that her longest run is about 13 miles. (This is according to my memory and she may dispute it but its pretty close to that). I figure, "This is going to be good." But Nina was young and I know that she will be fine. How do I know? I've seen this act before. Every time I look in the mirror I am witness to this kind of marathon training and rationalization. Of course now in 2015 its different but back then, you could have laid our training schedules over one and other. As we roll through Brooklyn and get by the Williamsburg Savings Bank building around the 8 mile mark, the neighborhoods are truly vibrant, noisy and fun. Music and frivolity are everywhere. Runners tend to expend too much energy in this area only to pay for it later. As we begin our entry into the much quieter Hasidic Jewish area of Brooklyn around the 12 mile mark, I announce to Nina that I need a break. "Huh?" she asks. "Right here," I reply. "My secret weapon," I add. Standing before me as I step off of the course and onto the sidewalk is a Subway sandwich store.
In my mind I am hearing choirs of angels. Nina is thinking something far different. "You're kidding?" Nina questions. She's used three words in the last sixty seconds and already captured the strangeness of the moment to perhaps most but not to me. I know that I am going to be down on sugar and I got the fix, a large chocolate chip cookie. We enter the store and everybody looks at us in stunned silence. The girl behind the counter asks, "Are you running the marathon?" "Technically yes," I reply. I then say, "I need two chocolate chip cookies." The Subway sandwich artist almost coughs trying to hold back her laughter. People in the shop are staring at us and then begin to smile. I go to pay the clerk who says with a huge smile, "No, I'm good." I hand Nina one of my prized possessions on the way out the door. Nina is laughing and mocking me at the same time. I tell her to trust me. The unexpected stop becomes a topic of conversation until we get over the Queensboro Bridge from Brooklyn into Manhattan. As we come off of the bridge and looking down the long four mile stretch of tall buildings on First Avenue, we have a space where everybody seems to be happy and cheering us. It feels good. I look at Nina and say, "This is great. They really are supporting us," referring to the crowd. It's at that point my not ready for prime time niece taps me on the shoulder and points behind and says, "Um, Uncle Cookie. They're not cheering for us. " At that exact moment some little kid to my left and his family that are watching the marathon says, "Look mom. It's Mr. Potato Head." Everyone within ear shot begins to laugh and smile at the young boy's comments. I turn to look behind me and the young man was wrong. It wasn't Mr. Potato Head. Upon first glance I understood the laughter. It was "Mr. Testicles." I know because he had a sign on saying so. It was a runner in that costume trying to bring awareness to testicular cancer. Do you realize how hard it must be to run a marathon in a Mr. Testicles outfit? Do you know how uncomfortable it is running next to this guy?
Talk about motivation to run. I hate this stretch of the New York City Marathon. It's a straight shot for four miles until you get to the Bronx. Because our starting wave wasn't until the last corral was let loose, the shorter daylight of fall days and the shadows begin to chill the air in Central Park. Sugar levels are being depleted for most but not for my young marathon apprentice and me. We look back and we have left Mr. Testicles in the dust for the moment. Around mile 22 Nina and I separate once I know Nina is okay. I finish. Nina comes in a little bit later. She did a great job for her first marathon and I tell her so. A couple days later Nina sends me her finish line photo from the race photographers. There she is with a great stride coming under the finish banner in Central Park. I send her my congratulations via email. Nina responds, "Look above the banner in the picture." There with the big smiley face is our aforementioned hero, "Mr. Testicles." Somehow it all seems fitting. Nina in few words again responds to my, L.O.L. email with two very carefully chosen words, "Uncle Cookie." Nina manages an Eileen Fisher store in Boston's Back Bay area in the exclusive Copley Place. She of course introduces her 60 year plus uncle as, "This is my Uncle Cookie." Bank president and business executive respectful introduction? But of course not. I'm U.C. with her and proud of it. For the record, in Columbus this October, I know which Subway I am stopping at on the course. I've been there before during a half marathon. Nina doesn't call me Uncle Cookie for nothing. Cringe if you want. It works for me. M&M cookies work even better. I understand Subway needs a spokesperson. Maybe, just maybe, I'm their guy.
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