Along First Avenue, a runner dropped dollar bills in the street, but no one, especially not me, risked cramping to bend over and pick them up. Still, I knew I could finish.

On a bus to the start, I had met Cris Young, 61, a contractor from Escondido, Calif., who was running his 32nd marathon. As we age, Young said, we get fewer sporting opportunities to compete against others.

“Marathon running is private,” Young said. “You can compete with the face in the mirror.”

Along Fifth Avenue in the late stages of the race, I thought of Jon Mendes, who calls each year during marathon week. He was scheduled to walk the course Sunday, the day before his 94th birthday. If Jon had been successful, he would have been the oldest finisher in the race’s history.

A bomber pilot in World War II and the Korean War, Jon flew with John Glenn and Ted Williams. He became an investment banker and lived on Fifth Avenue. He once told me that he continued to push himself through 26.2 miles for a simple reason: “You’ve got to have goals in life, or you wither away.”

He liked to enjoy a postrace beverage with a little kick.

“It’s called Black Label,” he said.

In Central Park, beyond Mile 24, I saw a guy wearing a Louisiana State cap. My alma mater. It brought my sister to mind. As I’ve written, she is so crazy about L.S.U. football, she sprinkles holy water on her television every time the Tigers get into trouble. She got a special batch from friends for this Saturday’s game against Alabama.

“It’s from Lourdes,” she said the other day.

A little laugh got me to the finish in 4:44:53. Slow, but more than a half-hour faster than I had run Boston.

This will probably be my last marathon, unless I can get into a race in April that North Korea has opened to Westerners. Problem is, if I say I’m a reporter, they probably won’t let me into the hermit nation. If I don’t and they notice, I might have trouble getting out.

Otherwise, at 60, I’ll have to be content with this: Only 15 more years, and I won’t have to take my shoes off at the airport.