Run All The States!

It all started with a 5K.

My very first race back in 2005 had me instantly hooked. 5Ks are like the gateway drug of running. One minute you’re jogging around the neighborhood for fun, and the next thing you know you’re Googling the elevation profile of a marathon and buying a foam roller the size of a small canoe.

Over the years, I collected race bibs like Pokémon: 5Ks, 10Ks, half marathons, full marathons — gotta run ‘em all. Somewhere along the way, I became mildly obsessed with the NYC Marathon. I read Runner’s World stories, watched Run for Your Life, devoured A Race Like No Other, and tuned in live every year like it was the Super Bowl of running (which… it kinda is). I dreamed about running through all five boroughs in the footsteps of running legends like Bill Rodgers, Grete Waitz, and, uh, not Rosie Ruiz.

Lottery Woes & Charity Wins

Cut to January 2015: I tossed my name into the NYC Marathon lottery with fingers, toes, and shoelaces crossed. Unlike most races where anyone with a pulse can sign up, you get into NYC one of several ways: run a qualifying time (no chance in hell for me, haha); fundraise for an official charity partner; or enter the lottery and hope you’re among the chosen ones. When the lottery results dropped, I wasn’t picked — but my running buddy Chris was. I was genuinely thrilled for him… until the FOMO kicked in hard. I quickly pivoted to Plan B: fundraising.

Team for Kids caught my eye. They’re all about promoting youth fitness and fighting childhood obesity — and their fundraising minimum looked manageable…ish. I signed up, and suddenly, the dream felt real. The catch? If I didn’t hit my fundraising goal, my credit card would get dinged for the full amount. No pressure, right?

I made a few donation posts on the socials, but the magic really happened after I mass-emailed my coworkers. When I got back to my desk after a meeting, one of them rushed over: “Check your email!” My team — and the company founders — had collectively donated enough for me to officially claim a spot on the starting line. I was floored. Overwhelmed. Deeply grateful. How is this real life?!

The following months were a wild mix of “I still can’t believe that happened!” and “Holy crap, I need to train for another marathon!” Knocking off the 4 runs on the schedule each week with Chris felt really good, though the hot summer heat and epic humidity made things extra challenging at times. In early October, I did my longest training run, a 20-miler and felt really good. I was ready. NYC, here we come!

Adventures in the Big Apple

Chris and I rolled into NYC with a whole support squad: my boyfriend, my bestie Cara and her partner Keith, and Chris’s wife Jennifer. We camped out in a roomy Airbnb in Hell’s Kitchen and did ALL the tourist things — Central Park, the Statue of Liberty, Times Square, museums, bagels, bridges we weren’t running over. A marathon-sized walking tour over a few days, basically.

Also: shoutout to NYC’s cat cafes and vegan donut shops (where have you been all my allergy-friendly life?). Michigan, please take notes.

Halloween, Delays, and Maximum Stress

Race eve was a mix of nerves, excitement, and drunk people buzzing the wrong apartment door. (Ah, Halloween in New York.) But hey, at least Daylight Saving Time gifted us an extra hour of not-sleeping.

Race morning, we gave ourselves four whole hours to get to the start line in Staten Island. That should be plenty, right?

…lol, nope.

We hit subway delays, ferry chaos, shuttle backups, and finally reached gear check with one minute to spare. ONE. But we made it. Colorful tutu on, bib secured, energy buzzing — it was go time.

The Borough Block Party Begins

Our wave started to the peppy tune of Taylor Swift’s “Welcome to New York” followed by the signature race athem: Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York.” Cue goosebumps.

We climbed the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge like “What hill?” and cruised into Brooklyn, which immediately turned into one giant, confetti-blasting, sign-waving, music-thumping party. The “Yo! Welcome to Brooklyn” cardboard signs were far more charming than the expensive-looking, professionally-printed “Foot Locker Welcomes You to [Borough Name]” that we’d see throughout the course. We’d spend the next 11 or so miles in Brooklyn, and packed crowds made sure every mile was super loud and welcoming. Music blared, rows of eager kids gave out high-fives, and you couldn’t help but feed off everyone’s amazing energy.

Eventually, we reached the halfway point on the Pulaski Bridge, which took us out of Brooklyn and into Queens. One borough down, 4 to go!

Queens brought some solid energy too, despite the collective mourning over the Mets’ World Series loss the night before. (Next year, Queens. Next year.)

Then came the spooky quiet of the Queensboro Bridge — no spectators allowed, just heavy breathing, footfalls, and the creeping anticipation of all the miles that lay ahead.

Manhattan Roars, Bronx Swears, and a Final Push

But OH MANHATTAN. The crowd roar as we entered First Avenue was absolutely bonkers. Like a stadium wave made of screaming humans. Our friends were there too! We had no idea they’d be here on First Avenue! Seeing them all was a huge boost in addition to the pick-me-up we got from the wild Manhattan crowds.

Somewhere in there, a Team for Kids coach ran up beside me, Jedi mind-tricked me into counting blocks, and convinced me I “looked great” at mile 17. Lies. Beautiful, supportive lies.

My legs turned to cement. Walk breaks increased. Chris, somehow still running like a champ two weeks after his last marathon, stayed right by my side.

We hit the Bronx just long enough to say “Hi” and “Bye,” then crossed the final bridge of the course. The best part of this was the lady holding a “LAST DAMN BRIDGE” sign and playfully telling us to “GET THE F— OUTTA THA BRONX!”

photo credit: https://www.instagram.com/p/9l9VWOIjZz/

Back in Manhattan. Fifth Avenue. Central Park. Autumn leaves. Spectator dogs. Mile 25. Everything was cramping and I wanted to keep running strong, but I was hanging on by a thread (and probably a half-chewed energy chew stuck to my shoelace). I was disappointed at myself for walking so much, but Chris was encouraging and supportive throughout. He reminded me: “We’re running across that finish line. No matter what.” Heck yes we are!

Dreams, Realized

Mile 26.

We spotted our cheering squad and Cara’s perfect “Run All the Boroughs!” sign. Chris and I grabbed hands, raised them high, and crossed the finish line together. We did it – a dream come true!!!

Just one year earlier, I had been watching this marathon on TV from a hotel room during the Indianapolis Monumental Marathon weekend. And now… I was part of it. Medal around my neck. Heart full. Tutu slightly sweat-soaked but still fabulous.

To everyone who helped me along the way — Chris, friends, coworkers, random loud strangers on the course — thank you. Thank you for making the biggest race of my life feel like one giant, joyful, 26.2-mile group hug.

I’m still not altogether convinced that this wasn’t a dream, but if it was… don’t you dare wake me up.

Closing Thoughts from the Concrete Jungle

• Best sign: “You CAN even.”
• Cutest spectators: The group carrying cute kitty head cut-outs on sticks. I don’t even know that cat but I enjoyed this immensely.
• Greatest mystery: Halloween costume or just everyday NYC fashion?
• Biggest race obstacles: Thousands of water cups, banana peels, discarded gel packets, moist sponges, and the sea of humanity in general.
• Most strategic bar choice: Jasper’s Taphouse, naturally. Two of us have cats named Jasper.
• Biggest miracle: The race logistics. 50,000 runners and not a single moment of “wait, where do I go?”
• Most unnecessary bridge: All of them. Kidding. Sort of.
• Most well-traveled: I made a cute infographic to illustrate how busy Sunday, November 1st was: