The New York Marathon should be on everybody’s list of ‘things to do before I die’.

But unlike Pheidippides in Ancient Greece, there is no need for it to be the last thing you do before you die.

Nowadays, running a marathon is much more than completing a 26.2-mile course before collapsing in a monstrous heap.

Most people do their bit for charity, raising hundreds, if not thousands of pounds, on the way.

Training for a marathon takes over your life. Weekends are no longer for family, leisure or resting.

Saturdays are for races and Sundays are for the dreaded “long run” (anything between ten and 23 miles).

But the months of training – the blood, sweat and tears come rain or shine – have their rewards.

And the New York Marathon is the ultimate prize for the amateur long distance runner.

Iconic is a word that is often used too liberally, but in the Big Apple’s most famous race the term is justified.

At mile 21, as your body wilts with tiredness, your legs buckle with a mind of their own and you can no longer recall why you decided to do the damn run in the first place, the Empire State Building comes into view.

The haze of exhaustion clears as you remember that you are close to finishing one of the world’s greatest races.

You stride down Fifth Avenue, roared on by a crowd so vocal that you’d be forgiven for thinking they had a sizeable bet on you.

Marcus Garvey Park, at the heart of Harlem, comes and goes in a blink of an eye.

And then you know you are close.

Central Park, the home straight, is just a few paces away.

You enter to a great cheer as crowds five or six deep jostle for a view of the brave men and women battling to drag themselves through the last three miles.

It’s tough, each step is a monumental effort and the temptation to stop is almost overwhelming.

And then the signs tell you you are 200 metres from the finish.

The crowds stand, you check your time, the emotion hits you – this is what it’s all been for.

The elation of finishing is indescribable.

A foil blanket is wrapped round your shoulders, a huge gold medal is placed round your neck and runners of all nationalities congratulate each other on their epic achievement.

On your 42-kilometre journey you have taken in Staten Island, Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx and Manhattan.

You have crossed the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, the Queensboro Bridge, Willis Avenue Bridge and Madison Avenue Bridge.

The Statue of Liberty, Brooklyn Bridge and the Empire State Building are just three of the landmarks you notice on your way.

And then there are the New Yorkers themselves.

Lining the streets from start to finish there is no let-up when it comes to support.

For those who had the forethought to write their names on their tops the reward is priceless.