For a New Yorker, 11 years now this past October, there is nothing quite like the New York City Marathon. I ran New York for the first time in 2016, my first marathon ever. I was instantly hooked to both the distance and this race specifically. The positivity, the energy from other runners and the crowd, and the sheer joy of knowing what it’s like to push your body to those limits. I’ve run it every year since, including virtually last year. But New York is often not the goal race for me – the bridges kill me and in previous years I’ve wanted to go after flatter races like Berlin and Chicago beforehand, leaving New York as the fun run.

But this year was different. 2021, from very early on, was quickly turning out to be one of the toughest years of my life. As I often do, I turned to running to give me peace. After running the Two Rivers Marathon in March and getting a surprise PR I decided … “I’m doing this, I’m going for a PR in New York this year.”

I’ve always trained diligently but I knew I needed to get stronger so I got a strength coach and I took it seriously. I ran six days a week, cycled often, and strength trained my heart out on the seventh. Surprisingly, I was training harder than ever before … yet feeling far better than I ever had. Running Doves every Wednesday was allowing me to settle into my goal race pace for 10ish miles weekly. It got familiar and I got confident.

Then, the taper. I hate the taper. I’m unpleasant, anxious, sluggish, and overall basically the worst version of myself. This year was no different with the added pressure of convincing myself I was losing my fitness. Then Garmin, the week before … “You’re unproductive, detraining, losing fitness … your dreams are out the window, kid.” I was a MESS. But my teammates assured me she’s a crazy bitch and to ignore it. The night before the race I got a text from our teammate Mahir. It just said, “Remember to have fun tomorrow.” I looked at it and was instantly calm. I let the anxiety go. I stopped doubting myself. I was still nervous but ready to just enjoy my favorite day of the year.

As soon as we got to the start village, surrounded by teammates I felt pure joy. We had all worked hard, we were all nervous – but we were so excited to get in our pack and march up to that start line and do this thing. We laughed and my fears started to wash away.

When the cannon went off, the most joyous run in my running memory began. We took off as a pack of 5. I knew after mile 3 I felt good, really good. Around mile 4 we were still together, laughing, soaking in the crowd.

We picked up a woman named Angela, who would stay with us until about mile 20. “You guys look so cool, and STRONG, I’m running with you.” We were like, “Girl, get it. We love you instantly.” We were feeling it – letting ourselves nerd out at how cool we thought we looked by running in a solid NBR pack like that. Later, official pictoral evidence proved we in fact, looked devastatingly cool.

At mile 8, I was still feeling good. We had passed our teammates shouting our names, we got swept up in the energy near Barclays. For a minute I thought “Maybe I can crush my A goal” as I started to think about speeding up. An instant later I thought “No. Your PR is in sight and this feeling could change at any moment. Hold on until mile 18. Don’t risk your PR for uncharted territory yet.” I was so focused on keeping myself in control I failed to hear our teammate Darnell literally screaming for us. But that moment was critical, I needed to let the noise fall away to keep myself in check.

We continued to settle into an 8:40ish pace which I knew would lead me to my PR. We came into South Brooklyn, rounding into NBR territory and we were on fire. I still felt amazing and seeing friends and teammates flooding mile 12 filled me with even more joy and confidence. We came to the Pulaski, to more screaming teammates. The bridge was familiar and we took it down, no problem. 5 was now 4 + Angela but we were making it happen.

We got to the 59th street bridge … and did a sound off. “Let’s do this guys, nice and steady!” We allowed ourselves a beat, taking it slower, knowing we could make it up on the downhill. We came across our teammate Mark right at the top. He looked over to me and said “Cait, are you on track for your PR?!” It was at that moment where I knew it … “Yes, actually. I really think I’m going to do this!” I couldn’t believe he remembered that from a training run a few months before but once again, the team support propelled me to keep going.

As we tore down the bridge my watch showed that slower was actually quite slow and I thought “now’s the time.” We picked up the pace and I was shocked to find that my legs responded easily. Along 1st 4 became 3, became 2. There it was, the Willis Ave bridge. Here, I knew as soon as we crested this hill it was time to pick it up if I wanted my A goal. I needed to run under 8:30’s to give myself some room to slog up mile 23-24. Mile 21 – 8:13 and I thought “I can do this.”

Just after the Mile 21 water table Casey shouted “Go Cait, Go – you’ve got this.” I was scared but determined – and also blown away by how my injured friend, unsure if he would even finish at the beginning of the day, became my emotional support for nearly 22 miles. That fueled me more. Mile 22 – 8:13 again, Mile 23, 8:13 once again and I nearly burst into tears. I passed the Finish Line Physical Therapy tent with my strength coach screaming my name, Carrie & Liz just a few blocks after, and then my best girlfriends nearly at the top of that dreaded hill with a honey stinger in hand. This was it – I knew I needed less than a 9:00 if my A goal would be in reach. I grabbed the stinger, screamed for my friends and then there it was … mile 24 – 8:45, I could do it if I could just crank out the last 2 with everything I had. I wanted to cry, but I knew there was no time. I looked at my watch at the 800 mark for one last time knowing I had just under 4 minutes to make it happen and I didn’t look again until my foot hit that finish strip. 3:45:18. I had done it. And not only had I done it but I still felt strong. I burst into tears for the first time in 11 marathons.

I cried for a few reasons. First, because it meant a lot to me. I know how hard I worked and I was proud of myself and relieved it was over. Second, because tears of happiness felt so amazing compared to tears of grief that had become far too familiar. And third, and most importantly, because I still couldn’t get over the joy I experienced running alongside my teammates (Erin, Michael, Thomas, and Casey – endlessly grateful), hearing others cheer our names, and feeling the support of everyone wanting this for you and for each other.

While I know I’ll continue to chip away at my goals year after year, I’m not sure I’ll ever forget what this race, my 11th marathon, my 5th in-person New York meant to me. I love running. I love it because a sub 3 is just as meaningful as a sub 8 – it’s about pushing yourself to do something you didn’t think you could … or not pushing yourself and just simply experiencing the energy of an event like this around you. Whatever it is, we all know what’s most important is the pizza. No, but really, it’s the immense joy of doing something individually meaningful as part of a team.

P.S. The woman we picked up at Mile 4. Her name is Angela, she’s 65, finished with a 3:48 and placed 2nd overall in the entire marathon in her age group. Talk about fueling my dreams for the future. Don’t worry – we’re sending her gear.