then i shall make you wings
Tomorrow. The marathon is tomorrow.
For me, it will be the capstone of a three-part journey two years in the making. One year to get into the race. One year to get to the start line. One day to get to the finish line.
I remember when running a mile was such an inconceivable thing that I allotted myself five years for the task. I remember gasping on the treadmill, my heart pitter-pattering wildly, my throat raw. I remember my first 5K, how big it felt, and tasting that experience I wanted again and again, of being cheered across a finish line. I remember lunch after my first 10K, medal around my neck, marveling at the distance: ten thousand meters! I remember eight miles for the first time, cruising out of Central Park in my Vibrams, my feet aching with each step. I remember ten miles for the first time, in winds even stronger than tomorrow's, and startling myself with my time. I remember when a half marathon felt like an impossible struggle. Now it feels like a relief: only 13 miles.
I remember starting running again this past May, wondering if I'd be able to keep up with the Galloway group for a mile and a half. I remember passing the half marathon mark for the first time, during that tough 14 miler in Lower Manhattan. I remember that strong 16 miler along Summer Streets and that excruciating 18 miler in Central Park and that victorious 21 miler in Brooklyn and that other 21 miler, three weeks ago, when I ran alone into the dark.
The night before my first half marathon, I wrote that I might never be the same person again, that I would emerge changed. It's strange how different that is from my thoughts tonight. I feel like I will emerge from the marathon more wholly myself. All those runs, all that training: they are a part of me now. The Saturday mornings before dawn; the weekday late nights along the West Side Highway. When I cross that start line tomorrow morning, I will only have myself and the things I have made a part of me. It will be me -- my body and my heart and my will -- fighting the battle, carrying me 26.2 miles across five bridges and through the five boroughs of this city. I'm excited to experience that confluence: the externality of two million cheering spectators, family and friends among them, and simultaneously, the internality of the challenge and the struggle.
In many ways, this feels like it will be the most enormous thing I have ever done. And whatever tomorrow brings, it will be my victory. Because I am still not an athlete and the marathon is still bigger than I can imagine. But I am going to do it.
Sunday, October 24, 2014: Poland Spring Marathon Kickoff 5 Mile
Thursday, October 30, 2014: TCS New York City Marathon Expo
If you want to follow along with me at home: http://liveresults.nyrr.org, bib #71546.
For me, it will be the capstone of a three-part journey two years in the making. One year to get into the race. One year to get to the start line. One day to get to the finish line.
I remember when running a mile was such an inconceivable thing that I allotted myself five years for the task. I remember gasping on the treadmill, my heart pitter-pattering wildly, my throat raw. I remember my first 5K, how big it felt, and tasting that experience I wanted again and again, of being cheered across a finish line. I remember lunch after my first 10K, medal around my neck, marveling at the distance: ten thousand meters! I remember eight miles for the first time, cruising out of Central Park in my Vibrams, my feet aching with each step. I remember ten miles for the first time, in winds even stronger than tomorrow's, and startling myself with my time. I remember when a half marathon felt like an impossible struggle. Now it feels like a relief: only 13 miles.
I remember starting running again this past May, wondering if I'd be able to keep up with the Galloway group for a mile and a half. I remember passing the half marathon mark for the first time, during that tough 14 miler in Lower Manhattan. I remember that strong 16 miler along Summer Streets and that excruciating 18 miler in Central Park and that victorious 21 miler in Brooklyn and that other 21 miler, three weeks ago, when I ran alone into the dark.
The night before my first half marathon, I wrote that I might never be the same person again, that I would emerge changed. It's strange how different that is from my thoughts tonight. I feel like I will emerge from the marathon more wholly myself. All those runs, all that training: they are a part of me now. The Saturday mornings before dawn; the weekday late nights along the West Side Highway. When I cross that start line tomorrow morning, I will only have myself and the things I have made a part of me. It will be me -- my body and my heart and my will -- fighting the battle, carrying me 26.2 miles across five bridges and through the five boroughs of this city. I'm excited to experience that confluence: the externality of two million cheering spectators, family and friends among them, and simultaneously, the internality of the challenge and the struggle.
In many ways, this feels like it will be the most enormous thing I have ever done. And whatever tomorrow brings, it will be my victory. Because I am still not an athlete and the marathon is still bigger than I can imagine. But I am going to do it.
Sunday, October 24, 2014: Poland Spring Marathon Kickoff 5 Mile
Thursday, October 30, 2014: TCS New York City Marathon Expo
If you want to follow along with me at home: http://liveresults.nyrr.org, bib #71546.