I Ran

I started running two years ago to lose a little weight. It started on the treadmill and I found myself feeling a relief I had never had felt before. I was able to do five or six miles at one point.  Soon it grew to nearly seven miles. It felt great, but I couldn't imagine doing any more than that, until I found my way to Central Park. A friend wanted a partner to help him train for a half marathon.  We ran over fourteen miles. I felt it the next day. But no matter what the day was, nobody could take away that I ran. And nobody helped me. I did it. It's amazing what the body is capable of.


I ran my own half marathon in May and shortly after was asked if I wanted to run the New York City marathon in November for charity. I would have to raise the money. What would be harder? The training or the fundraising. They were both a bitch, but I did both and on last Sunday I ran 26.2 miles.
New York City is one of the largest (if not the largest) and one of the most difficult (if not the most difficult) marathons to run. I got to run it with a good friend, which made it something more.
And running in the city that I've called home for almost twelve years made me see the city brand new. My first apartment was on first avenue, where a large part of the course takes place. We ran by my current home, where my parents stood and cheered me on, in Harlem. It looked different, but I was different too.
Four hours, nine minutes, thirty-five seconds.
You start as one person, you end as another. This marathon, it softens and hardens you. It brings you to your knees and takes away your breath. And then it fills you up, with confidence, pride and strength - right as you feel like you're being knocked out. What's really happening is, you're being born again. Is this the end or the beginning?
And then it's over. And your'e body begins to shake. And by the next day, you have to learn to walk again. Because nothing works quite the same way. I walk around the city, and it looks different.  A moment can change everything.