After 9/11, my mother suffered a mental breakdown. I was living with my parents at the time, and
working as a public skate guard at an ice rink about 45 min away from home
after being laid off from my first chemistry job in April. She had always been nervous about my more
independent nature, as she rarely did anything alone, but as she lost touch
with the reality that I was an adult, I wasn’t allowed to leave the house
without a cell phone and promises to check in.
(There was one incident where I was working the Friday night public
skate, and because the police station was two doors down, an officer was parked
outside the rink entrance as I walked out of there and to my car. I figured that since I was super-safe, I
wouldn’t have to check in with her. I
walked in the front door to my mother, so convinced that something bad had
happened to me, was about to call the police.)
I lived in that environment for about a year and a half
before taking a job as a traveling consultant and buying a home of my own. While I was traveling the country and making
mistakes and learning, my mother’s fear of something happening to me if I left
my safe suburban life remained in the back of my head. I rarely would even travel to Chicago, outside
of the trips to the airport required for my job. When I commuted to Princeton, NJ in 2008, the
idea of going to New York City, visiting Times Square and the Statue of Liberty
and Ellis Island alone was out of the question.
After a fantastic Chicago Marathon with the Muscular
Dystrophy Association, I learned they had a New York City Marathon team. The two marathons would be three weeks apart
this year, so I signed up for both, with a goal to raise $7500, a test to see if
I’m ready for Boston or London’s charity fundraising requirement. In the excitement of knowing I would be finishing
another major marathon, it never occurred to me that I might be a solo traveler;
I was in a relationship at the time, and usually a few people from my run club
might get in by lottery so there might end up being a nice group.
In the end, there were five of us: three who qualified by time, myself, and
someone who did get in via lottery. However,
I was the only one who wanted to expand the trip into more than running a
marathon, and by summer, my boyfriend and I were through. I booked my trip solo, renting an AirBnB in
Harlem for a few nights after the race and purchasing tickets for both the
Statue of Liberty and the 9/11 Museum. I
figured that I had three days before the race with both my charity team and my
Libertyville Running Club teammates to get an understanding about the city, and
I’d have my smartphone and Uber. And of
course, that 26.2 mile jog from Staten Island to Manhattan.
I flew into LaGuardia, and immediately, there were people in
running shoes and jackets everywhere.
Talking to the lady at the information desk, I scrapped my plan to take
an Uber because she said the subway was so easy. And it was.
I came out only three blocks from my hotel, and really, it was no different
than wandering around the Chicago Loop. Win! I also discovered my Maps app had directions
via public transit, which made everything super-easy, especially later in the
trip.
Between the LRC and MDA, all of my meals, my walk to the
expo, and even getting to the bus in front of the library race morning were
with friends. Two of us even walked
around Times Square. The best moment was
walking down the peanut butter aisle in Whole Foods the night before the race and
realizing that there was no way for them to prepare the amount of bagels and
peanut butter needed for all those runners, staying in hotels around Midtown. Total apocalypse. I grabbed the closest thing, plus two cookies
to counteract the super-garlicy bread at dinner, and decided to make do with
what I’m thrown.
Times Square
Actually, that became the theme of race day. While the race starts at 9:40 am (and my wave
at 10:35 am), we had to be up at 4:15 am to make a bus to get from Manhattan to
Long Island. I woke up healthy (which is
a fear when the dry hotel air is giving me a slight tickle in my throat) and
ready…..to sit on a bus for two hours and then the start village for another
two. In stop and go traffic. So in the midst of balancing hydration and nutrition
and digestion and porta-potties, I also had to consider the potential of motion
sickness. Fun times. I distracted myself by meeting new people,
but by mile 10, some issues arose that required me to focus on how I was going
to keep putting one foot ahead of another.
A potty stop and shoe unlacing at mile 16, the realization that I was
near PR pace at 19, and a near sprint to finish below five by the end. The Wave 3 clock at the finish said 5:01, so
I didn’t realize my time until I got back to my hotel and saw the texts from
friends who were tracking me. I
collapsed on the hotel room floor, crying.
Back home with the LRC, celebrating my 4:56:56
The race itself is now just a series of snippets, going by
so fast that I barely remember it. The
quiet start up the Verrazano Narrows Bridge.
Running on the expressway as the UPS trucks used for bag check race
by. The welcomes as we entered each borough. The noise and enthusiasm of loudspeakers and
unofficial aid stations and even homes decorated for the race in Brooklyn. The constant up and down of the road. The runners from around the world. The selfies on the Queensboro bridge. The seemingly never-ending First Avenue. Trying to wave to the motorcycle camera in
the Bronx. The long uphill into Central
Park (Mile 23!), and just floating up and down the hills to the finish. It was fun and glorious…..until I was in a
crowded finish chute, barely able to put weight on my pained right foot,
starting to chill. It was such a long
walk that after I got my poncho, I found a bench and sat down for a while.
After a warming shower at the hotel and an evening
celebrating our accomplishments, my roommate, Kate, headed back to Chicago
while I headed out to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. The hotel held my bags, so I hopped on the subway
for the short trip to the ferry launch.
On the subway, a family got on with a toddler in a stroller. The toddler crawled out of the stroller, and
not understanding the rhythm of the train, stumbled and hit her head on a
pole. The entire car, made up of people
of all backgrounds and cities of origin and tourists and languages, all gasped,
almost in unison. No matter what our
differences may be, we are all human.
Hey, I ran over that on Sunday! Mile 1!
That became the theme as I traversed New York the next two
days. I finally saw the Statue of Liberty
and visited Ellis Island. I cried my way
through the 9/11 memorial museum. I stayed
in a lovely garden apartment in Harlem. I
traveled by subway and quietly listened to two women trying to do good in the
schools, just as I do on many a Thursday night.
I saw a community where the businessmen stand outside, greeting the
people they see every evening. I got
takeout from the Queen of Soul Food. I
ate ramen at a shop hidden from the street.
I got a fist bump from the barista at Starbucks. I got a great local beer recommendation (Interboro Brewing Double Fluffed Stout) from a Whole Foods employee. I
even got asked directions. Sorry, it’s
my first time here. I took the bus to
the airport, and waiting for my flight, met a server who had volunteered all
day at the Biofreeze station. I was told
that New Yorkers are blunt and rude, but I found a strong sense of humanity and
community.
In the end, I conquered New York twice. Once on race day, but also navigating the
city in the days afterwards. Halfway
through this journey, both five years and three stars, and I’m learning what a
good traveler I’ve become over the years.
I’ve found not only the dream I want to pursue, but the passion and
gumption to make it happen. I took
risks, overcame challenges, and rolled with the punches. The scared little girl, trapped behind her
mother’s anxiety in 2002, was now standing where they watched workers sift
through the ashes and steel on TV every night.
Both that girl and that land has changed dramatically. The pain and hatred inside of Ground Zero is
now a beautiful place to reflect, remember, and memorialize. The fear and insecurities in the little girl
have been replaced with strength and confidence.
The Sphere, which was located on the plaza between the two towers
It may feel like the happily ever after ending, but these
were the “easy” marathons, really. The
three remaining—Tokyo, London, and Boston—are much harder to gain entry. I maxed out my network fundraising and came
up just short of $5000, so work remains before I can apply to run for
charity. They are also going to be
significantly more expensive than the three I’ve completed, between the two
international major cities and the training regime needed to qualify for Boston
on time, which is now a little over an hour.
Well, the biggest challenges in a trilogy always arrive at the very end,
right? So the journey continues, one step
at a time….
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