As I made it off the bridge and approached my family and friends on 73rd street I knew that the last 9 miles were going to be tough. I knew that running for more than a half mile at a time was going to be a struggle. I knew it would be the crowd, the energy, and the excitement of the day that was going to carry me to the finish line. I knew it wasn’t going to be pretty. I also knew that in some way, shape or form I was going to make it to the finish line. After a slow 8 miles I was in the park. 2 Miles Remaining. A couple rolling hills, a sharp turn around Columbus Circle, up one last hill and across the finish line. 4 Hours and 32 minutes.
For me, the end result was far from failure. Was it my best run? No, not even close. But I was out there
running, smiling (most of the time), and battling every step of the way. I was not disappointed. I was not frustrated. I knew that I gave it my all. That I left everything on the streets of New York City. That at the end of the day I showed up and accomplished what I'd set out to. As my college soccer coach told me last week, “A good showing is finishing." Well I finished. A smile on my face, a medal around my neck. A feeling of accomplishment that nothing else in this world can give you. Another New York City marathon under my belt. Another great day of celebrating life.