In January of this year, I weighed in at 221 pounds, I was pretty unhappy very depressed, and I could barely run 3 miles.

I now care little about my weight (though I’ve lost a bunch), I am the happiest I’ve ever been, and on Sunday, I learned that I can run 26.2 miles without walking a single step. And apparently I can smile the entire time.

(be warned; this puppy is photo heavy!)

Woke up in the morning feeling like P. Diddy. I had my [tired] game face on, my sister by my side, and Anna in my belt. Then all of this transpired. Such a n00b.  In any case, once I got my ish with the drop bag figured out, I was able to run down to the Fred’s Team breakfast, nom some oatmeal, snag a bagel for the road, jump into the team photo, and make it to the bus in time.

The anticipation leading to the start was the worst. Honestly, who schedules a start time of 10:40 on Staten Island?  That’s just cruel.  Our buses left midtown Manhattan at 6:15, and it took us about an hour to get to the start.  Once there, we had to sit in wait for three hours. I didn’t really think about it before hand, but I usually do all of my long runs within an hour or so of waking up. And I wake up early.  HOW DO I EAT?  Surely that oatmeal and mini bagel aren’t going to last me three hours until the start and then more than five hours of running?  Over the course of the next few hours, I ate a little bit more, totally guessing what may work: a honeycrisp and a Clif Bar.  It was a shot in the dark, but it seemed to turn out alright.

The weather was perfect. I ended up taking off my throw away clothes about an hour before my wave’s 10:40 start because it was so lovely outside (and a wee bit warm in the tent).  Once we were able, we made our way to the start area and huddled into our corrals. IT’S ALL HAPPENING.

Before I knew it, the canon blasted and Sinatra crooned me across the start line with a little “New York, New York,” and any semblance of nerves washed away. I’M RUNNING THE NEW YORK CITY MARATHON, Y’ALL.

Being on the lower level of the Verrazano was kind of lame. Except not, because let me reiterate: I’M RUNNING THE NEW YORK CITY MARATHON.

Pro tip: don’t be a jerk. Please discard your throw away clothes before everyone starts running. The runners are so densely packed that it’s difficult to see what’s in front of you, and one girl to the right of me took a nasty spill because of it. That’s no way to start off the first mile of a marathon.

The first 5k were tough, though not because of the bridge (you call that a hill, New York?) - it always takes me 3-5 miles to get warmed up. Once my muscles got nice and loose, all was well and I started picking up speed a bit.  I ran the first 4ish miles with another Fred’s Teamer, but I lost her somewhere around Park Slope in Brooklyn. Kind of a bummer, because she was a doll, and I rarely have anyone to talk to during my runs (read: never), so I was looking forward to the company. Except I wasn’t bummed at all, because I was RUNNING THE NEW YORK CITY MARATHON. With 47,000 of my closest friends. (This point will never get old.)

Out of the five boroughs, Brooklyn claims the most miles.  They don’t tell you that they’re also THE BEST miles.  The spectators were nuts and enthusiastic, there were bands every five feet (slightly hyperbolic), and all of the runners around me were still happy.  Brooklyn was probably the most fun I’ve ever had while running, which is saying a lot, because I had a lot of fun in Manhattan and the Bronx, too.

At about mile 8, I almost missed The Internet; I was at the far left side of Atlantic Ave when I saw Kiera’s glasses (not all of their personalized signs or my sister…) on the far right, and I made a swift beeline for them. I may have cut off a few runners. Woops. I screamed a bunch (surprising?), gave Gillian a half hug (can’t stop running!), and I was off! I didn’t get a chance to see what the signs that my lovely cheering squad (Stef and Rob were there, too!) had made said, and Gill tried to give me the Nuun I had forgotten at the hotel, but I didn’t know where to stash it, so I passed on it.

About a mile later I was met by Claire. People shouldn’t look this pretty while running. 

And is it just me, or is it alarming the way that “GUTS” and “epic shit” are juxtaposed below? An omen? It had me a bit worried.

Luckily, nothing terrible happened. Actually, nothing bad happened at all.  Ever.  I would say that Claire was a sight for sore eyes, but at mile 9, I wasn’t distressed, so my eyes weren’t ‘sore’; I just like love her a lot. I can’t remember what we talked about. Probably attractive men who run marathons. (Is that what we talked about?)

Then she went all ninja, shoved her sign at me, started running backward, snapped this ridiculously sexy photo, and blogged it. I am so blessed. (But really.)

Somewhere along the next few miles, I lost Anna and that handkerchief, given to me by my older brother. Sad day. Except not at all. Because I’M RUNNING THE FRAKKIN’ NEW YORK CITY MARATHON.

I passed the half way point on the Pulaski Bridge, connecting Brooklyn to Queens, and though it had a gorgeous view, it was all relatively uneventful. People seem to really hate bridges. Does not compute. I was in Queens for all of 5 seconds (I’m like… REAL fast), and before I knew it I was on the 59th Street Bridge, traipsing along across the East River and into Manhattan.

Like I said, people seem to really hate the bridges.  They’re the closest thing to hills that NYC seems to have, so I had a lot of fun with them. Most people were run/walking or walking the uphill half, but I just kept doing my thing and running, smiling a lot, and commenting on people’s attire:

It was around this point that I realized people were starting to lose some steam, and I was becoming that annoying girl who smiled, screamed, and talked entirely too much.  It made me think of shortmom (who has ALL the fun in races), so I snapped this photo for her, remembering how she missed looking at my boogers.

As we came to the end of the bridge, there was a sequence of three signs:

1. IF “EASIER” MEANS TEN MILES TO GO
2. THEN WELCOME TO EASIER
3. WELCOME TO MANHATTAN

Three boroughs down, two to go. I soon passed the 16 mile marker, and I knew that I would be seeing my family soon.  Not that I wasn’t already happy (um, hello? I’M RUNNING THE NEW YORK CITY MARATHON), but my spirits were raised even more knowing that I’d get to see them in a few minutes.

I’m fairly certain I was cheered on by Janelle, Cindy, and Susie. (RIGHT?!) Whoever it was, they were on the other side of the street and I almost missed them; thankfully they were some very enthusiastic cheerleaders, and I couldn’t help but jolt around as I heard them screaming my name. Luckily, there aren’t many Brennas out there.

I saw Memorial Sloan-Kettering, where my grandfather received his treatments and my family was spectating, a bit before I expected it. I gave my momma a half hug like I’d given Gillian earlier, but I couldn’t find my step-dad or grandma while running (AS IF I’m about to stop; sorry, fam), and apparently they missed me, too.  At this point, I was ambushed by my sister, who ran with me until 125th Street. And on a bum knee, no less!  I’m fairly certain we also talked about attractive male marathoners.  If none of us talked about this, then that’s probably what I was thinking about. Sorry I’m not sorry.

I reluctantly parted ways with Gillian (except not so reluctantly, because I’M RUNNING THE NEW YORK CITY MARATHON) and headed to the Bronx.

You know what’s awesome? BAGPIPES. And kilts. Followed shortly thereafter by rapping.

Other than the music, the Bronx was short and sweet. Crossing back over into Manhattan, I saw the back of a shirt I had seen on Tumblr. It was Patty! What are the odds? Girl had hit the wall and was still killing it. Also looking too pretty. How do all of my runner friends manage to look so pretty?

Right after I saw Patty, Empire State of Mind started playing, I got REAL excited, busted out a little bit of karaoke, and then I found myself at 125th again and with it, The Internet and ALL of the happy.  Kiera and Gill ran with me until just before I had to cut into Central Park.  These ladies were a godsend, as the miles they ran with me (21 until just before 24, I think) were the toughest of the whole race.  My energy levels were still high (too high?), but my legs were growing weary, and it was hard to keep them moving at a decent pace. I also started to get a headache from screaming so much.

I should mention that these ladies are ALSO looking too pretty while running.  Looking this good while running isn’t normal.  All four of you ladies must teach me your ways.

Favorite sign:

I was sad to see Kiera and Gill go, but just like Harry in the Forbidden Forest as he lets go of the Resurrection Stone and says goodbye to his loved ones (like how I threw in a Harry Potter reference?), I knew that I would have to brave the end of my journey alone. With 47,000 of my closest friends. Because I’M FINISHING THE NEW YORK CITY MARATHON.

Apparently there were hills in Central Park? Can someone confirm this?

This is where I started getting REAL excited. And you thought I was pumped before…

Stefanie somehow managed to catch me on film; I didn’t know it was possible to capture objects moving at such high speeds, but I’m grateful for whatever alien technology she has at her fingertips.

ZOMG 400 METERS. THAT’S LIKE… NOTHING.

Time to spriiiiiint!

[insert epic scream/WOO! here]

And then it was over.

And I was a marathoner.

And I could have kept running.

And I continued to make faces.

And I was incapable of holding up the correct side of my medal.

Right after the finish, the lass with whom I ran the first 4ish miles found me (she finished just a couple of minutes after I did), and we snapped this photo:

Does our pure elation emanate from these pixels? I think it does.

As I was walking out of the park, I randomly met a man from Conway who had also done Soaring Wings the week before (I kid you not; again, WHAT ARE THE ODDS?), found my sister, and shuffled back to the hotel to shower and perhaps die. The Internet swung by, I finally got to meet Janelle, and Stef took what is arguably the best photograph of me in existence:

I celebrated with my family, ate a lot of pizza, and was given a round of applause in a restaurant by a group of large, burly, and impressively mustache’d biker men.

Mom: Are you going to do it again next year?
Me: What, run New York City? I’d love to, but the lottery is like… impossible. And I love Fred’s Team, but there’s no way I could fundraise that much money again.
Mom: I think you can.
Me: Okay.

It’s kind of funny how easily “can’t” can pop into your head, isn’t it?

I got some much needed rest, spent a little more time with family, and ended up leaving entirely too soon.  I packed up my car and started my drive back to Massachusetts, making a little pitstop along the way.  I sat for a while, missing the man who had made such an impact on my life and wondering what the future may hold for me.  I started working on some plans, too. Big ones.

Thanks for the help, Poppy.  You always point out what I have trouble seeing on my own.

26.2 miles.

5:18:51.

12:11 pace.

Ain’t no power in the ‘verse can stop us.