2023 New York City Marathon Recap: Part 2

Start with Part 1.

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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.

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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.

At the same time, we were enrolling my mom in hospice care and thinking she was going to die within weeks. Take running away from a runner on a good day and it’ll mess with their head. Take it away when they’re in crisis and it’ll fuck ’em right up.

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.

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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.

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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.