The 27th Mile

Hello! Welcome back to Footprint — and happy Friday.

I’ve spent the past two weeks recovering from the New York City Marathon, and slowly, but surely, getting my legs and head back into shape.

It can be a strange transition, after pouring so much into a race. For now, it’s nice to run with no plan, or agenda, and think about what just happened, rather than what just might.

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From cows and bananas to Ken from Barbie, Callie Holtermann reports in the New York Times on memorable looks from this year’s marathon • Read

There’s one mile of the New York City Marathon course that noone really talks about. You won’t see it in the post-race social media breakdowns. It’s not on the TV. It’s not even marked on the couse map. But it’s one of the most profound.

After slogging through 26.2 miles, navigating five boroughs, and reaching the finish line in the heart of Central Park, runners are then required to stagger a further ten blocks north, before turning back down the park’s westside.

Two Sundays ago, weighed down by a medal and the hazy memories of what had just happened, I set off on the 27th mile.

My mind was still putting hours-old Staten Island nerves to rest; my ears ringing from the energy of Brooklyn, the buzz of Queens, and the sheer volume of Manhattan; my heart full of the spirit of the Bronx.

Hundreds of us hobbled forward, clad in bright orange ponchos, the elation and exhaustion palpable under the sunshine and blue skies of a gorgeous New York City day.

My head started to empty. For the first time in hours, it wasn’t focused on how fast I was moving, how soon I had to reach for a gel, or how worried I needed to be about each and every twinge or tweak in my legs.

No cell service meant no distractions. The messages and notifications were stuck in the ether. For the first time in what felt like forever, I could just think.

I thought about all the times I didn’t think I could do it. I thought about the moment I realized I would.

I thought about the importance of doing things that scare you, even a little – of setting off from your comfort zone; seeing how far, and how high, you can fly outside of it; and then landing.

I thought about the scores of people, close friends and complete strangers, whose cheers I rode to the finish. I thought about the handful of people, without whom I wouldn’t have made it to the start.

I thought about how I messed up the daylight savings time shift and got up an hour early. I thought about lying down.

I thought about never doing this again. Maybe doing this again. Probably doing this again.

More than 59,000 people finished the New York City Marathon earlier this month: more than any other marathon in history. Each encountered the same waves of hope and fear, of euphoria and fatigue, along every mile and around every bend.

But by the 27th mile, the race is run. Hopes have been realized; fears dispelled. All that’s left is euphoric fatigue.

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The colors are changing in New York. Yellows, oranges and browns signal the turn of a new season. But on a run the other morning, I felt a wash of blue.

It’s relatively common, after crossing a finish line, to grapple with some sort of comedown in the days and weeks that follow.

For four months, I put what I had into training — long runs, short runs, fast runs, slow runs, good runs, bad runs, and beyond — for a single day.

When that day comes, it might be everything you dreamed of, or one to forget. But it also goes.

After dedicating so much time and effort to one goal, facing inevitable highs and lows, and seeing it from the start through to the very end, it’s natural to wonder what comes next.

Acknowledging that question, and formulating a response, is one way of moving through the blues.

The answer can be whatever you want it to be. I’m shooting, at least for now, with “I’ve no idea.”

You win some, you lose some. But how you frame each run — and how you tell the story — is up to you.

US Olympian Molly Seidel returned to New York City with a plan to use the marathon as a stepping stone, as she prepares for the Black Canyon 100K in February.

She said she was disappointed, but proud, after withdrawing at mile 18. “Still cooking,” Seidel wrote on social media. “Just taking a bit longer than the recipe said.”