…How I ran the New York City Marathon

11/13/2018 @ 6:15pm

So I didn’t have a ride, I scheduled an Uber there for 5:00am. —- my Uber driver was courteous…sounded Caribbean. After the regular banter and finding out about the race, he offered me the following advise- the race is not for the swift but for those who can endure it. Among other kinds words, he mentioned how he used to run in his younger days and how our discussion had reminded him of the joys of running and he would likely go for a run this coming week.  He wished me good luck and made sure I was as close to the transit bus as possible, so I wouldn’t be out in the cold too long. 

When I got on the assigned bus, I saw an empty window seat. I later found out I was sitting next to Dwight from Tennessee. Dwight was a fitness trainer for mature adults “living an active lifestyle.” This was his first time running the NY marathon, but he had run others, included trail running. He mentioned one of his friends was running a 100 mile trail run this weekend, yes you read that right. He alluded to the cutoff being 30 hours…. I can’t even fathom what that would look like. Dwight’s advise for me went like this…the single most important thing I can do for my health (especially as I get older) is develop the habit of strength training. He went on a bit about all the reasons women in particular shy away from this, all of which sounded familiar. When asked about the impact of running on the body, especially for taller people…he said all a myth. The impact of running has to do with your stride. He went on to say runners tend to have stronger limbs as they get older and less likely to have bone issues- often because runners tend to weigh less and tend to lead more healthy lifestyles. He talked about getting the right shoe to support your stride and impact especially when running on concrete.   Dwight encouraged me to run barefoot, I told him that was regular practice for me as a child growing up in Jamaica but as an adult, I hadn’t done that in probably forever.

When the bus stopped at the base of the Verrazzano bridge Dwight and I said our goodbyes, good lucks and proceeded through security screening.

Mile 1 was magical. The sun was bright and filled my face with warmth, the bridge was amazing and everyone was in tremendous spirits. I, like many others, stopped to take a few pictures on the bridge. The weather was perfect for it. Afterall, how many times does the opportunity to take a picture on the Verrazzano bridge… that’s once in a lifetime I think. Everyone was smiling, some people were run- walking…some people were on crutches, some dressed in colorful tutus. I even saw Ironman in the melieu. 

It felt euphoric and true to form as I hit miles 2 and 3 in Brooklyn my pace was too fast. I heard my app say “average pace 11:45” and I immediately thought sh**! Here I was doing the very thing, everyone told me not to do. I started slowing down. But the magical thing about the NYC marathon crowd; was that the more you indulged the crowd (Hi fives with kids! Waving hey!) the faster you ran, but this was horrible practice in the early miles. It felt great though, it was like a power-up when you saw a kids smiling face and gave them a hi-five. The crowds make this run something special, it’s as if you’re are a celebrity and everyone wants to see you finish. From the delicious food scents in Latina neighborhoods, to bands playing upbeat music (I saw folks from all cultures…Chinese, Latin, Black and white), to people with all kinds of signs, the crowd made this memorable. I wished I had stopped to take pictures of signs I saw along the way. One of my favs said…” Yasssss complete stranger. YASSSSS !” Another one at the last bridge of the run, exclaimed – “Last Damn Bridge!”. There were various signs alluding Trump was chasing you and run like your life depended on it Jand signs folks wrote for their loved ones. It made me chuckle each and every time. The energy and thoughtfulness was a true testament to the connectedness of everyone in that space and time, wearing a bib or not. 

In mile 3 something unexpected happened, I glanced to my right and saw an unexpected ally. She was at least 70 years old… her gray silver hair was in 2 braids down the side of her head, and she wore a kofi type hat. She kept me at my goal pace from mile 3 to 16…where I connected with my fantastic friends. Between mile 3 and 16 we ran side by side… never missing a beat. Where I would speed up, she would pull me back to pace. And visa versa. I noticed something early in our interaction, she would slow down at every water stop to replenish. So I started doing the same, I had planned to stop when I feel thirsty but she seemed like a pro so I followed her lead. This was true until mile 15 when people started buckling down and thirst was replaced by fatigue. After each water station we would find each other. We ran closer to the middle of the road, avoided the crowd filled sidewalks, because while tempting- the lure of excitement was a pace killer.  And so it was over 13 miles….she and I ran in cohesion. An outsider looking in may assume I was driving her, but that would have been wrong. She was driving me, I guess more accurately we were pushing each other. Just before mile 16 we spoke to each for the first time. As we pushed our way across what seemed like the longest bridge ever, and I literally blurted out “does this bridge end?” she took off her headphones and said “I know!” For maybe 2 minutes we bonded over the eternal distance that was this bridge as she told me this was her second time running the NY marathon. I told her she was an amazing runner and we went back to our dance. At mile 16 I met my friends, whose smiles brought me nothing but pure joy. And it was bitter-sweet that I parted ways with her. I knew we wouldn’t likely meet again, over 50,000 people were running that day. Funny enough I glimpsed her around mile 20 in passing. But I was happy to have spent the time with her. I didn’t know anything about her, not her name, where she was from, nothing. But in that moment it didn’t matter. All that mattered was this silver hair angel who appeared to keep me on track and even give the sporadic hi-five in Harlem too!  

Mile 16 and 21 I saw my friends. No words I type will do justice to what it meant to see their faces. To know they ran across the city, literally, to tell me keep going. To know they would run those finals miles all the way with me if they could. There are no words. The only thing that comes to mind is one of my favorite Khalil Gibran sayings- work is love made visible. They made signs and face timed my other friends who couldn’t be there. They brought coconut water and bananas. They smiled and told me how good I was running and how good I looked. A girl needed to hear these kinds words, especially at mile 21.

Mile 19/20 I hit wall. I’m pretty sure I “speed walked” most of mile 21. My body was done, my mind was exhausted. I started asking myself over and over, why the hell are you running 26 miles? For what? No money. No accolades. 

I had to go back to that quiet day during Christmas break in December 2017. When I accepted that self-discipline was something I needed to develop and nurture in 2018. The same time I deduced that one way I could combined what I enjoyed doing- running- with an area where I needed to grow- self discipline. I had to remind myself that I was running because this was goal I set for myself. That my mental and physical training (though not always consistent) was to prepare me for the next phase of my life. I had to remind myself that though I didn’t know what was to come, I knew I needed discipline to succeed there. 

So I slowly started to pull on techniques I learned in training. I started fishing… I looked for people ahead of me… locked them in sight and pass them slowly but surely. The first was the guy with a body length Jamaican flag, he was fionnne!!!! so fishing him was easy. Next was the lady in the hot pink shorts, she was tricky because she was pushing her way through, I eventually past her too. Then I found myself in a pace group…. They were set to finish in 6 hours. I immediately attached myself to this group, the pace leader was Peter. He was sweet. At mile 23 he had words of encouragement and his demeanor was calm. 

Mile 24 my mind wandered again so I pulled another tool from my training bag. I started dedicating miles, the first dedication was to my friends. The people who believed in me since the time I was sent a text saying I got in. I ran for Candiece, Shar, Soph, Meish, Michelle, Erica, Ralph, D, Ab….for my friends who face-timed me during the race because they couldn’t be there, friends who gave me advise for every mile of the race, friends who trained with me and pushed me mentally, friends who filled my world with so much love and kindness that I’ve never know what having a hater felt like.  Everyone was in my corner. Mile 24 was for them. 

Mile 25 I ran for my family. I thought about how this would make me a better person for them. How maybe I could inspire my brother and show him that he is capable of doing absolutely anything. Honestly I could have cried at mile 25, but I didn’t wanna waste the calories/energy JI thought about all the changes happening in my family, and what this race meant in the grand scheme of that. I thought about my mother, the most resilient woman I know. The woman who has loved me through every stage of my life, though at times very critically. The mother who has always believed I can do anything I put my mind too, and has never waivered. My brother who is finding himself and becoming his own person. I hoped by me living life on purpose he would see in action what it means to live with intention. What it means to set goals, and wake up early consistently Saturday mornings to train, in the heat and cold. I thought about my aunts, all powerful humans in their own right. All determined to live life on their own terms regardless of what the world thinks. I thought of my dad, who had no clue about this day but who in his absence has taught me so much about life. Most importantly, I hope that in preparing and running this race, my brother would have a real life example of an imperfect human striving to be better in small but consistent ways. Mile 25 was for my small but powerful family.  

Mile 26 I dedicated to myself, sounds sappy I know. But I needed to leave some things on that track. I needed to leave things behind that no longer served me. I can’t tell you in detail what those things were but I can tell you I felt lighter, more focused, more aligned, more at peace, more enlightened post race. Now here I shed a tear, not an all out bawl but I shed a tear for all the meaning finishing this race would hold.  I would have done something I never thought I could. Ask me a few years ago about running a marathon, I would have said never. I thought about the ways I had to change the way I think…about myself, about my friends, about love, about self-love, about life, about old habits that I needed to let go to, about what it means to be endogenous, about finding peace, about flying. I could share so many lessons learned but it means more to share the ones I apply daily because those will stick around a while. As a kid, and well into my adult years, I had fantastic dreams. They would include this amazing house, with a pool and lush greenery with ceramic floors. I would also dream of flying. It would often be in the same neighborhood (dark, but airy), over the same dark and tall buildings, with no specific destination. Over time in my dreams, the more flying I did, the more curious I became about controlling this “gift”…I started wondering how to fly higher, how do I land, how do I change direction. Here’s what I discovered, I could change all these things with my mind. ALL of it! Shortly before I stopped having flight dreams, I had a better handle on using my mind to change course and fly higher but I had mastered nothing in my dreams. I stopped having these dreams, I guess somewhere in my 20s… I can’t pinpoint the time. I miss those dreams. But in Mile 26 I thought about these dreams again, I thought about the closest I’ve ever felt to flying was racing down pristine Prospect Street, in Maplewood, often on the last leg of my run home. I would fly past the church on the corner of Prospect and Park St. In those moments I felt unexplainable freedom. In many ways I think I stopped having flight dreams when I started “flying” in real life, in my late 20s/early 30s I changed course in my career, I purchased my first home and started approaching my emotional health in more intentional ways. Mile 26 was emotional to say the least, and in my mind I was flying again. Not because I was running at top speed but because I was free. I had accomplished this goal but also learned tremendous and unexpected lessons. Ones only preparing for and running this race could teach me. On that track I left self-doubt and the idea that I wasn’t good enough to receive the best of all things. I solidified that self-discipline is in fact a mirror reflection of self-love and it requires daily practice.  

Finally, I knew for sure, that everyone is running their own race, in infinitely invariable ways.  Synergy with others is imperative along the way.  Sometimes you find folks to pace with you for a while/or a season and after that season you go your separate ways taking the experience with you. Flying is possible not to mention so much FUN! Not only in the literal sense but spiritually, emotionally, psychically…in the connected sense of the word…but it’s only possible when you prepare and train your mind.

Till’ next time, walk gud!