In early September, I ran my first marathon. For those of you who know my grandparents, marathoners Art Gregory and Ruth Taylor, you may be wondering what took me so long! Trust me, they are too!
I started running casually in 2018, competitively with collegiate cross country the year after, and have been competitive intermittently after graduation before joining the Steeps racing team in 2022. I started building mileage and trying out different races and distances, and found a competitive group of other racing team members to run with at the end of last year. Most of the friends in this group are marathoners. And so, the friendly peer pressure started to build. I started to think about doing this crazy thing.
Then, in March, I injured my hip. While the friends around me built their mileage and tapered for the Boston Marathon, I was in physical therapy. The idea of running a marathon felt more distant than it ever had. My boyfriend, Chris, invited me along to Boston for the marathon festivities, and as I’m sure has been the case for many a spectator, I was inspired and decided I wanted to run that iconic race at some point. Sooner rather than later. So, not long after I returned home from Boston, I signed up for Erie. It was the last race I could use to qualify for 2026, giving me lots of time to build up strength and mileage from my injury, and also far enough north that heat likely wouldn’t be a factor in the beginning of September.
I jokingly kicked myself all summer long for making this decision, as I’m sure many other end-of-summer/early-fall marathoners can understand, but I definitely appreciated all of the heat training when the day of my marathon dawned in the mid 50s with a light drizzle!
The Erie Marathon is a two-loop course around Presque Isle. My boyfriend and another one of our friends, Adrian, ran the first half as a workout for their upcoming marathon (Chicago! Wish them luck!) and a second friend, Rob, joined me at the full marathon distance. Rob and I stuck together at the start, then separated as he picked up the pace for his target goal. Around 10k in, I joined a group with two other runners aiming for a sub-3 goal, and we locked into our pace. Everything was feeling good – my nerves had settled into energy, the weather was beautiful, and even my fuelling strategy, something I’ve always struggled with, was going to plan. At the half marathon mark, we looped back past the start/finish line. Chris and Adrian were finished with their half and now cheering me on at the top of their lungs (everyone needs a cheer squad like Chris and Adrian!), an energy that buoyed me until the 20-mile mark, which is where my race took a turn.
My fatigue built, my legs grew heavy, and my pace began to slip into the seven-minute range. I passed a few people who were also bottoming out, but more began to pass me. I’d told Chris to wait for me anywhere after mile 22 (prior to Erie, the distance of my longest run), and him cheering me on at mile 23, with Adrian a mile later, helped me scrape together the willpower to rally and finish my race with a final time of 3:05:01.
The exhaustion I felt in the final miles of the marathon is like nothing I have ever experienced. I knew this race was going to challenge me in ways no distance I’d ever run before had, but I had no idea how fully it would drain me. Every step past mile 21, I wanted to stop. But every negative thought I countered with a reminder Chris told me he uses when he starts hurting in a marathon: “You’re still moving.”
Because it was true. I was still moving, still putting one foot in front of the other to get back to him and Adrian and Rob at the finish line. I can do hard things, whether it’s completing my first marathon, healing my hip flexor to run that marathon, or training my stomach to take gels and water mid run. Or, my most hard-won, the achievement that I choose every day: to choose to run for the joy of it, not for the eating disorder that took my joy of running for years. For me, running Erie was in large part a celebration of what I can accomplish when I choose to truly take care of myself.
And finally, this marathon also reminded me of the community that runners create. The encouragement of Amy and Siyu as we paced each other in the first half of the race, the other runners who urged me on in the final miles, the volunteer with the box of Tim Hortons at water stop 5, and of course the love and encouragement I felt from the fellow Steeplechasers who came to Erie with me – they all reminded me of why I love this sport so much. Even though we are running our own races, we are all in this together, working to better ourselves and uplift each other, together. I hope that every runner is able to feel this same support during their time in the Frederick Steeplechasers, no matter their goals.
