Four years of grieving what was and accepting what is.
When I’m with Janet, I wonder where my mom is. She might wonder the same about her daughter.
When I dropped her off on Saturday after a visit at her former home, I hugged her and told her I loved her. She politely replied, “Thank you for having me over today,” like she would to a neighbor she doesn’t know very well who randomly invited her in for tea.
I hope her daughter still exists in her mind as someone younger and more carefree, with fewer grey hairs and fewer hurts. I wish I still existed that way, too, but I accept what is.
If she doesn’t recognize me as her daughter and I don’t recognize her as my mom, we are virtually strangers. We are linked through blood and birth, but as if in a past life.
Aaron and I watched the film Past Lives on Saturday night (potential spoilers ahead). In it, Korean childhood sweethearts Nora and Hae Sung are separated by a move and reconnect intermittently throughout their lives. They know each other so well from their younger years, yet are strangers as adults. They seem destined to be together, but as they grew up, their paths diverged in such a way that makes it nearly impossible.
The concept of in-yun is woven throughout the film. Nora explains: “It’s an in-yun if two strangers even walk past each other in the street and their clothes accidentally brush, because it means there must have been something between them in their past lives. If two people get married, they say it’s because there have been 8,000 layers of in-yun over 8,000 lifetimes.”
At one point, Hae Sung wonders if they are currently experiencing a past life, and what will their relationship be in the next?
The film is gorgeous and heartbreaking; the perfect example of holding many opposing truths at once, and of grieving what was and accepting what is.
I don’t know if in-yun applies to mothers and daughters, but I do know my mom and I have left our marks on each other. I hope it’s enough.
It comforts me to think that, while her body remains here on Earth, my mom’s spirit—the very essence of her that I’ve watched gradually fade away over the past four years—may already be somewhere between this life and the next, waiting to know me again.
When I launched my Alzheimer’s Association fundraising in April, I declared my intention to run a PR in New York City. “I ain’t flying across the country for a fun run!” I wrote.
Well, life happened, and I indeed flew across the country for the most fun run I’ve ever done—and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
I jumped into training at the beginning of July with speed work, strength, the whole nine yards. I was determined to make this my best training cycle ever. But a few weeks in, I went for an easy five-mile run with my friend Hallie and noticed my right knee wasn’t tracking properly. I stopped to stretch, thinking it was due to a tight muscle. I was able to complete the run without pain, but my knee still felt off.
This strange feeling continued for several runs until July 26. Five and a half miles into a six-mile run, I felt sharp knee pain and immediately stopped to walk the rest of the way home. My knee felt fine just walking; it was the impact that made it hurt. The next morning, my knee started clicking and popping frequently—but painlessly—with normal movements when it never did before.
I visited my chiropractor hoping he’d be able to fix me, but he recommended I see an orthopedic surgeon to make sure it wasn’t anything serious. On July 31, an orthopedic surgeon diagnosed me with patellofemoral pain syndrome, or runner’s knee—a common injury caused by overuse and/or weak thigh and hip muscles, among other things. He wrote a referral for physical therapy and advised me not to run for six weeks.
I started physical therapy on August 3 and told Julya, my PT angel: “I’m good at following directions; I’ll do whatever you say. Please, just get me to the New York City Marathon start line, and I’ll figure out how to get myself to the finish line.”
Julya and my other PT angel Stephanie worked with me twice a week, teaching me a full routine of foam rolling and strengthening exercises. They taped my knee with KT tape and showed me how to do it myself at home. Luckily, I was able to ride my Peloton without pain, so I started doing Power Zone rides with Matt Wilpers to try to keep up my cardio fitness.
Only a week into PT, Stephanie watched me run on a treadmill for a few minutes and, when that didn’t hurt, encouraged me to try a run the next day. I was thrilled that she believed in running through recovery as long as there was no pain. I was able to complete the run—but then picked up a cold from Evie and got super sick. One step forward, two steps back.
When I was finally healthy again, I felt really out of shape and struggled through a few Peloton classes and one or two runs per week. I worked my way up to a 10-mile run at the end of August, which felt like a huge victory—but far from where I needed to be to train for a marathon.
All I really cared about were getting in quality Sunday long runs along with a few shorter weekday runs, and I managed to do 12 miles, then 15 miles. My knee was still clicking and popping like crazy but was pain-free. However, my other leg developed painful posterior tibial tendonitis from ramping up mileage too quickly and compensating for my weaker leg, so my PT team showed me exercises and massage techniques to keep that at bay.
On September 17, I ran 17 miles and finally booked our flights to NYC. I knew that day that I could run the marathon—not a PR by any means, but I could get from the start to the finish. And over the following six weeks, I successfully completed what felt to me like the bare minimum of training: four days of running with one hilly run per week, zero speed workouts, topping out at 40 miles during peak week.
My knee actually didn’t bother me at all, but the tendonitis was a daily battle. I continued going to PT once a week through September just for that. Run, massage, stretch. Rest as much as possible. Just hang in there, please.
This race didn’t need to be pretty. I just needed to do it for me and prove that grief could not stop me. Runner’s knee could not stop me. Tendonitis could not stop me.
After an emotional year filled with uncertainty and the weight of making such hard decisions about my mom, I needed running, this thing I love so much, to be my anchor and beacon of hope. I needed a day of pure happiness and sunshine and smiles.
Somehow, I got it.
BOOM went the start cannon, and it was time to RUN!
I smiled like a fool all the way across the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge, as one should when they’re running the greatest marathon in the world.
I smiled in disbelief, gratitude and pride. I admired the view of the Manhattan skyline to my left, stared in awe at the suspension cables ahead and soaked up the energy of exuberant runners all around me. This was what I’d fought so hard for. Nothing could ruin this run!
Well… it was a little warm.
The sunshine that had felt so nice in the charity village felt a bit hotter now that I was running up a decent incline in the first mile of the race. I felt very grateful for the handheld bottle I’d purchased at the last minute after hearing Jess Movold, Meghann Featherstun and Meaghan Murray-Neuberger talk on their pre-race Instagram Live about how they all planned to at least start the race with a handheld. I took sips of Nuun and thought of Emilia Benton emphasizing the importance of electrolytes the previous morning during our shakeout run. I had three more Nuun tablets in a baggie tucked into the narrow pocket of the handheld and figured it would be a good idea to use one per hour.
It felt lovely to run downhill in the second mile on the bridge, and I made sure to keep my pace feeling easy; I didn’t want to destroy my legs when I knew there were many more hills to come.
I was pleasantly surprised that I had plenty of room to run. I worried that a race of more than 50,000 runners would feel claustrophobic, but having each wave separated into three colors—orange on the left side of the bridge, blue on the right side and pink on the bottom deck—helped keep us from running on top of each other.
I had also been worried about starting with faster runners since I registered with 3:45 as my estimated finish time, but I was able to go my own pace and not get swept up. Plenty of people ran slower than me and plenty of people fully stopped to hop up onto the median of the bridge and take pictures.
It was thrilling to make our first borough transition into Brooklyn. I knew I’d see Aaron there somewhere, since he’d rented a Citibike and ridden to Brooklyn first thing in the morning.
The spectators in Brooklyn were a welcome sight, and I busied myself searching their faces for my husband. I saw him around mile three, between miles four and five, and between miles seven and eight. It was so exciting to see him each time!
But the crowds were entertaining in their own right, cheering, blasting music, holding up signs and calling out to everyone who had their name written on their shirt. This was my first marathon with DEVON printed on my singlet and I felt like a rock star. I had 1989 (Taylor’s Version) queued up on Spotify so that I could easily start listening to music whenever I wanted, but I didn’t need to for a good long while.
In different parts of Brooklyn, I heard music that reminded me of my mom and made me feel like she was with me. A man sang “Take Me Home, Country Roads” into a microphone, which my mom used to sing to me and now I sing to Evie at night. And a bagpiper took me back to my childhood days of Scottish Highland dancing—a passion of my mom’s that I promptly quit the moment she let me. I got choked up both times, and many more random times throughout the race, just feeling very lucky and supported.
I stayed on top of my fueling and hydration, eating a UCAN Edge every four miles (about every 40 minutes, based on my pace) and grabbing water at every station to refill my bottle and drink an extra cup. I dropped another Nuun tablet into my bottle when I hit one hour of running. I had felt the hint of an urge to pee in the first few miles of the race, but figured it would go away and it did. No bathroom stops—hooray!
Brooklyn was a party the whole way through, but it became a real rager starting in mile eight. The race course narrowed to just one lane of the road, so spectators were super close to us on both sides and they were wild. It reminded me of the Tour de France, like one of those little mountain towns where people absolutely lose their minds as the world’s best cyclists race to finish a stage. I’d read about the crowd support at the NYC Marathon, but nothing can prepare you to actually experience it. In the words of Rihanna / Nils Sjöberg / Taylor Swift: “Baby, this is what you came for.”
After that, I think I turned on my music for the first time running through a quiet Orthodox Jewish neighborhood. Listening to “Welcome to New York” in New York while running the New York City Marathon? Chef’s kiss.
I crossed the half-marathon timing mat in 2:08:05 and felt great, both physically and about my pace. I was treating it like a long run and keeping my bus seat-mate’s advice about running on a leash for the first 18 miles in the back of my mind. I hoped to have the energy to bust through the wall at mile 20 and maybe even pick up the pace a little after that. (LOL!)
Note who’s right in front of me in the photo above: a woman named Janet, of course!
After crossing the Pulaski Bridge, we were only in Queens for a few miles, and I have no distinct memories of it. I did stay with a friend in Queens during my first-ever trip to NYC in 2011, so I was like, “Hey, I’m back!”
Then the Queensboro Bridge—the second longest in the race—carried us into Manhattan. I listened to more music and marveled over how 1989 is just front-loaded with banger after banger. I’m pretty sure I heard “Out of the Woods” on this bridge and it really hit.
Coming off the bridge, I heard the infamous First Avenue wall of sound and searched the crowd for my dad, since he said he’d be at mile 16. There were sooo many people, though, and I didn’t see him. Turns out the marathon app was a bit wonky and showed me in a different spot than I actually was, so we missed each other. Oh well! The search kept me busy for the first few miles of the long trek up First Avenue.
I saw Aaron again at mile 17 or 18, and he gave me an Oreo, per my pre-race request. The problem was that my stomach felt great and I didn’t want to potentially mess it up with a lot of sugar, so I just held onto it for a few miles before tossing it.
It was not hot, per se, but warmer than I’d like and I remember looking for shade to run in at this point and for the rest of race.
First Avenue seemed to drag on forever, so it was awesome to see the Alzheimer’s Association cheer squad at mile 19. They tracked every single one of the runners on our team and gave us a hero’s welcome as we passed by—so lovely.
Over the Willis Avenue Bridge to hit miles 20 and 21 in the Bronx—great music there!—then over the Third Avenue Bridge to head back to Manhattan for the final time. Someone had a sign that said “LAST DAMN BRIDGE!” and thank goodness, because I was wondering.
My legs started feeling really dang tired in Harlem. I started walking through water stations and treating myself to a little walking here and there where there was shade. I started dumping a cup of water over my head at each station, too.
I saw Aaron again at mile 23, took another Oreo (only ate half) and told him I was taking walk breaks. He said, “Not anymore! 5K left, go, go go!” I wanted to run the rest of the way, but my little walk breaks felt sooo nice. And the race atmosphere was so incredible—a once-in-a-lifetime experience for me—that I didn’t mind taking a bit longer to enjoy it.
Fifth Avenue was kind of a blur. I ran out of Nuun (had dropped the last two tablets into my bottle at the two- and three-hour marks), so I started drinking Gatorade at the aid stations. As diligent as I tried to be about electrolytes, I could feel a crust of salt on my temple and knew I needed more. I ate my last UCAN Edge at mile 24. We entered Central Park, which was super cool, and I tried to limit my walking after that.
My watch was measuring more than a half-mile ahead, so seeing mile 25 pop up on my watch but knowing I had so much farther to go until the actual mile 25 marker was torturous. I wish I’d hit the manual lap button at each mile marker instead. Next time!
I thought my dad was going to be at mile 25 and was bummed when I didn’t see him. I didn’t want him to have come all the way to NYC and miss me completely during the race. I did see my Instagram friend Grace, though, which was unexpected and awesome!
I picked up the pace as much as I could and continued to scan the crowd for my dad. People were packed in like sardines and I had no idea how to spot him, but then I realized he’d probably be the only guy wearing a mask. Sure enough, closer to mile 26, I spotted him wearing a blue surgical mask and smiled the biggest smile. I ran closer to him and waved, then rode that burst of energy toward the finish line.
I saw a sign that said 800 meters to go, but that last stretch felt more like 8 miles. I was on a tear and tried to pass as many people as I could. It took forever, but I finally saw the finish line ahead and couldn’t believe it—I was actually going to finish the New York City Marathon.
I pushed my sunglasses on top of my head, smiled my biggest smile, threw my arms up and crossed the timing mat in 4:22:07 (10:00 average pace). I had hoped to finish under 4:30, so I was thrilled!
DONE. So. Freaking. Happy!!!
My Garmin splits are way off, but at least you can see what I was seeing on my watch, and that I did manage to speed up somewhat for the last bit. And the hills—no joke.
My legs actually didn’t feel too bad afterward and it was nice to keep moving as I walked to collect my medal, bag of goodies and fleece-lined poncho. I was hungry so I had a couple of pretzels from the goodie bag, but they were like dust in my mouth. Then I felt like I might puke and the only place it seemed feasible to do that was in one of the plastic bags tied to the fence to collect bottles and garbage. I kind of hunkered over one of those bags for a few minutes until the feeling passed.
The walk out of Central Park and to the family reunion area took a long time. I crossed the finish line at 2:12 and the photo with Aaron below has a 2:53 timestamp. I’m sure Aaron was sick of waiting for me, but I didn’t mind the time to walk and process what just happened. I would have felt differently if it was cold or rainy out, I’m sure.
I got teary eyed when I saw Aaron, and fully burst into tears when we met up with my dad. He said he was proud of me, and that my mom was proud of me, too. I know she would have loved to have been there.
Aaron was the MVP of the day. He rode 56 miles (!) on a non-electric Citibike to see me at so many different parts of the course. When we got back to our hotel, he also went and stood in line for 40 minutes at The Halal Guys across the street because a beef gyro platter sounded sooo good to me (and it was). He was probably just as tired as I was. Best husband ever.
I cleaned up and we went to Morandi for dinner with my dad. I enjoyed a long-awaited glass of champagne and the most delicious lasagna. J. Smith-Cameron, who played Gerri on Succession, was there, too!
Even though my body was exhausted, my mind was buzzing with excitement and I could barely fall asleep that night. Despite being the second slowest of the nine marathons I’ve run, it was by far my favorite and the one I’m most proud of.
Part of me wishes I’d been able to have a stronger training cycle, but perhaps things worked out as they should have. I’m sure, with my mom beginning hospice care, the last thing I needed to do over the past few months was put myself through the wringer in pursuit of a PR. And if I’d been focused on my time during the race, I’d have missed all the magic New York City has to offer.
I have so much to be thankful for, especially that the injuries that plagued my training never made themselves known during the race. My knee behaved perfectly, and the tendonitis—what tendonitis? Even in the days after the race, the only thing I felt was soreness in my quads from all the hills. Thank you to my PT angels, to my foam roller and resistance band, and to all the beautiful rest I enjoyed while tapering.
Everything was perfectly imperfect, just how it was.
I look back on this experience, and the last four years, and think: Alzheimer’s has taken so much from us. It stole my mom, Evie’s nana, Don’s wife. It will take Janet eventually.
But it couldn’t stop me from having the best day in New York.
I will hold on to that for a very, very long time.
I must begin with a huge THANK YOU for helping me exceed my $10,000 Alzheimer’s Association fundraising goal—$10,535, to be exact! I am in awe of your incredible support. Thank you for believing in me and caring enough to make a difference. ❤
Aaron and I began our New York City adventure with an early morning flight out of Seattle on Friday, November 3. I considered booking a Thursday-night red eye instead to give us more time in the city on Friday, but my Instagram friends convinced me not to. That may have been the right decision in terms of getting quality sleep before the marathon, but I was sad to miss the Ali On the Run live show with Ellie Kemper on Friday afternoon; we were just landing at JFK as it began.
After an hour-and-a-half taxi ride to Manhattan—during which I became incredibly grateful Aaron’s mom Greta was babysitting Evie back home, since she would’ve hated such a long travel day—we checked into the Hilton Midtown around 6pm.
Immediately, I spotted professional runners Keira D’Amato and Colleen Quigley in the hotel lobby and knew I’d booked the right hotel! I was too exhausted and shy to approach anyone, but internally fangirled very hard. Aaron and I dropped our bags off in our room and headed to LumLum, where we enjoyed incredible Thai food for dinner.
I didn’t go out of my way to carb load for this race after I had a terrible experience trying to majorly carb load for a half marathon in the spring. My meals and snacks were just a bit more carb-y than normal and it worked out great for me.
I was in bed by 9:30pm (which felt like 6:30 to my body) to try to get on East coast time. I fell asleep immediately, but woke up around midnight to use the bathroom and lay awake for at least an hour afterward. Dang it!
On Saturday, I woke up at 6:30 feeling somewhat refreshed, ate a couple of Superhero Muffins from my stash (a must for destination races) and ran a few blocks to Central Park to meet up with Emilia Benton for a shakeout run.
Our run flew by and I wished we had so much more time to chat. I told her about my obsession with Liquid I.V. and how I wasn’t sure I should use it every day, but had been the past few weeks to stay hydrated. She dropped this bit of wisdom that wound up really helping my race:
I headed back to the hotel, grabbed oatmeal and fruit from the lobby restaurant, then showered and got ready for the day. First we made a quick stop at the marathon expo to pick up my bib and shirt. We crossed paths with the Peloton instructor Olivia Amato on our way in!
Then we headed to Bacall’s for the Alzheimer’s Association team lunch. It was so nice to meet the Alzheimer’s Association folks I’d been corresponding with all these months and see a lot of the team in person. We shared a table with a woman named Donna and her husband. Donna has been running marathons—mostly Boston, where she lives—for the Alzheimer’s Association for many years and estimates she has raised more than $200,000 in total. She was diagnosed with breast cancer earlier this year and continued training through her treatment—incredible!
With our bellies full of pasta, we headed back to the hotel to relax before dinner. Another Instagram friend, Grace, stopped by the lobby with her adorable son to say hi and deliver some Levain Bakery cookies—so sweet! We also fangirled over retired pro runner Meb Keflezighi, who gave us big hugs and was so nice. His brother and manager Hawi took our photo, and I made sure to let Hawi know I knew all about him from Ali’s podcast so he wouldn’t feel like we only cared about Meb. 🙂
Then I texted Ali Feller herself, queen of NYC Marathon weekend, to see if she was around. She was staying at the same hotel and I was determined to sneak in a quick hug since I knew she was incredibly busy. The only time I’ve spent with Ali in person was in NYC in 2015, when she ran 13 miles of a 19-mile run with me, but I’ve also had the honor of being a guest on her podcast and guest-hosting an Ask Ali episode.
It was Zac Clark’s episode of Ali’s podcast that had me in tears last year and inspired me to run the NYC Marathon. And this year, Ali has been undergoing treatment for breast cancer. I wanted to give her a hug even more than I wanted to get one from her.
Alas, she was not around, but she promised to text me when she was.
I laid out my race outfit and executed my, um, interesting fuel-carrying strategy. I could only fit two UCAN Edge packets in my shorts pockets, so I pinned the other four to my sports bra. I’d never tried this before, but my race singlet seemed to be snug enough that the packets wouldn’t bounce when I ran. Fingers crossed!
Aaron and I met up with my dad for dinner at Au Cheval, a restaurant famous for its double cheeseburger. We fell in love with the burger at the original Au Cheval in Chicago in 2015, and Aaron was eager to eat it again. Luckily, a big, greasy hamburger and fries is my go-to pre-race meal! We can confirm it still hits.
My dad was in town to sightsee in addition to spectating the marathon, so it was fun to hear all about his adventures. I feel very lucky he came all that way to cheer for me.
I didn’t get in bed that night until about 10:30, but the end of Daylight Saving Time was on my side; we “fell back” overnight and gained an extra hour of sleep. Hooray! It took me a long time to quiet my mind and fall asleep, so the extra hour was probably a wash.
I woke up at 4am full of nerves and excitement. I was never nervous about the race itself; it was more about the logistics of making sure I had everything I needed and getting to Staten Island.
I quietly got ready in the bathroom while Aaron slept. I drank a full bottle of Liquid I.V., ate two Superhero Muffins and did my business. I was just finishing getting ready when I got a text from Ali asking if she could meet me in the lobby at 5:15. I was planning to leave at 5:00, so I assumed we wouldn’t catch each other and wished her luck on her broadcast. She replied: “I’m coming down to give you a hug.”
Due to my last-minute triple-checking that I had everything I needed, I was NOT in the lobby at 5:00 and Ali was—oops! I finally made it down at like 5:08 and got teary-eyed in the elevator. As soon as I saw her, I ran into her arms and fully burst into tears. Dramatic. I was feeling all the emotions of race day and finally getting to hug a friend who has been going through a lot. We only had a minute or so before I had to leave and she had to run back up to her room, but I will never forget that moment, captured here in a chaotic blur.
I hightailed it to the Silver Level charity buses at 59th & 7th, which was really just a few minutes’ walk. The buses were scheduled to depart at 5:45 and I wanted to give myself plenty of time. I hopped on one that was nearly full and it left right away. I chatted with the woman next to me the entire time, so the ride went quickly. She dropped another bit of wisdom that I carried with me during the race:
“Run like you’re on a leash for the first 18 miles.”
We arrived at Fort Wadsworth on Staten Island around 6:15 and walked like a herd of cattle through security and into Athletes’ Village. I saw the silhouette of the Verrazzano-Narrows bridge against the sunrise and got so happy and excited. I was finally there and just had to wait until it was my turn to run!
I had a few hours to kill before the Wave 2 start at 9:45, and I was very thankful for the accommodations we had in the Silver Charity Village. The Alzheimer’s Association team had its own tent filled with chairs, and the village had plenty of porta-potties, bottled water, coffee and bagels. As the sun rose, it was warmer and nicer outside of the tent, so we pulled the chairs outside and sat and talked. I ate a banana and continued to drink water to stay hydrated.
I had a nice chat with Alissa, who was in Wave 1 and was treating the marathon like a long run in her buildup to a potential sub-3:00 at CIM. We shared our names so we could track each other, and it was only after she messaged me on Instagram shortly after she headed to her corral that I realized her last name—Kolarik—was so familiar to me because I already followed her!
Around 8:00, I ate a peanut butter and honey sandwich I’d made the night before. I kept drinking water and used the porta-potty two or three times. My physical therapy for runner’s knee included foam rolling before every workout, and since it wasn’t practical to bring a foam roller to the start, I brought a Stick with me. I’d had it for many years and rarely used it, so I didn’t mind tossing it. (You can’t check bags at the start, so anything you bring to Staten Island and don’t take with you on the run gets donated or thrown away.) I started rolling out all my leg muscles around 8:45.
When the Wave 2 corrals opened at 9:05, I did my dynamic stretching routine in the charity village and used the bathroom one more time. I stripped off my throwaway clothes and bequeathed the Stick to my teammates to use before their waves started. One of the Alzheimer’s Association folks stopped me to take this photo. I ironed photos of my mom onto the back of my singlet so that she’d be with me the whole time.
The entire team cheered for me as I left the village, which made me smile so big! I absolutely loved my whole experience running with a charity team and highly recommend it.
The weather was a dream: in the high 40s when I arrived on Staten Island and in the 50s by the time the Wave 2 corrals opened. I brought a throwaway hat and gloves, but didn’t use them. I wore arm warmers as I walked to my corral, but didn’t really need them and ditched them before starting.
Once I got into Orange Corral E around 9:20, I immediately got in line for the porta-potties to go one last time. The corrals closed at 9:25, I did my business, and I was out and eating my pre-race UCAN Edge by 9:30. I ran into my college friend Jesse, so time flew by as we chatted and walked slowly in the herd of runners toward the start line. I used to party at Jesse’s fraternity in college, so I found it hilarious that we’d meet again at the start of a marathon!
Shoutout to NYRR: Everything about Athletes’ Village, the three starting colors (orange, blue and pink) and the corrals was super organized, clearly marked and easy to find—and ran perfectly on time. These people know what they’re doing!
Finally I heard the National Anthem, then Frank Sinatra singing “New York, New York.”
BOOM went the start cannon, and it was time to RUN!
Dev on Running 