“We need for you to go that way,” an organizer in a bright orange vest says. He points behind us, and the crowd begins moving towards corral J. Near that corral and off to one side, yellow tape bars the way into corral F. Everyone stands there and patiently waits.

Time passes…

The announcer asks who is from various countries, primarily inquiring about Central and South American countries, eventually circling back to America. After some more talking, a set of fireworks go off in the distance. People applaud. I see the crowd behind the yellow tape begin shuffling towards the starting line.

More Time passes…

The yellow tape is cut and everyone around me begins shuffling to the starting line. I toss my black sweatshirt off to the side and begin following them.

As I get closer, I hear the announcer say, “You’re running under a piece of American history.” There is a large American flag hanging from a towering white crane. He explains that the flag was flown near the twin towers in New York City during the September attacks. The large flag moves from location to location; this morning it’s just before the starting line.

We have the luxury of running on wide roads for the first five miles or so, allowing me to navigate around people easily and pulling off to the side of the road to take walk breaks, as my run/walk/run plan entailed. Yes, I’m one of those annoying run/walk/run marathon people that plays this game of “I pass you; you pass me” for hours. After effortlessly climbing up the first bridge, my watch beeps, signaling a walk break. I pull off to the right-most side of the road and after rounding a corner and lo and behold, there is a photographer.

Darn it.

It’s okay because during the next walk break there’s another photographer waiting for me.

Beyond the bridge, the course heads into South Beach. En-route, you see billowing smoke from large cruise ships. During one of my walk breaks, I hear a runner slow down to ask a pair of walkers wearing orange shirts, “Are you from The Biggest Loser [television show]?” They say, “Yes,” and some other runners nearby say, “Hello” to them. Over a second bridge, the horizon glows orange as the sun tries in vain to climb over low hanging clouds.

My water belt comes in handy for the first eight miles as I purposely avoid the water stations. My first impression is that they are crowded as you have two groups of people, the half and full marathoners running the race at the same time, and the stations are always located on right side of the road. One advantage of this is that water spill off stays to the right. As a comparison, in NYC water stations are located on both sides of the road, leaving an unavoidable sticky Gatorade residue on the streets. There’s always a dry side of the road in Miami.

At the north end of South Beach, the road narrows to a two lane road. I pull off the left side to take a walk break. A man grunts as he has to go around me, stepping on some fallen palm fronds in the process.

A lady runs with a drawing of a dozen flapjacks, drenched with syrup and topped with melting butter pinned to the back of her shirt. My eyes are transfixed on the bouncing pancakes. “That’s just wrong,” a guy jokingly comments; I get a laugh out of it.

At mile 8 I stop at a public park. “These are unisex bathrooms now,” a lady tells me as the ladies have commandeered both restrooms. “Oh, okay,” I say as I refill my water bottles and leave. I brave the next water station to add Gatorade to the bottles; the crowds are not as overwhelming as I initially thought.

There’s a not-as-high bridge leading into downtown. A lady sits on the curb sobbing as a couple of paramedics are kneeling doing something with her left arm.

Eventually, I see mile marker number 10, a milestone that I have reached double digit mileage territory. Someone comments, “We’ve got three miles to go.”

Tune that out, Joe.

My brother asked me what I think about when I run marathons because you’re out there for such a long time. I told him, “I dunno. Nothing. You just run,” but that isn’t true. As you begin working your way into downtown you hear it at first; then you experience it. At those points in time, I thought, “I wished I had a video camera with me.”

You hear the high-energy music first, and then you see a crowd waiting for you to run by. The road narrows down to a single lane and people offer you food (oranges, strawberries and fig newtons), rattle cow bells and cheer you onward. At this point in time, I feel 200% special and start run at least a minute/mile faster. Pockets of people, or “cheer zones,” like these are scattered throughout downtown.

Eventually I reach a point where I see people walking towards me with medals hanging around their necks, consisting of a golden palm tree on a navy blue background. “They [the half marathoners] finished already,” I think to myself and determinedly keep on moving.

Signs appear denoting a turn off for the half marathoners ahead. Music fills the air. In the center of the road a line of kids hold yellow and reddish signs that point to the left or to the right. Half marathoners go left; full marathoners go right. Turning the corner, I see it.

To be continued…