It all started three years ago, back in 2022, I ran my first Philadelphia Marathon with no training plan, no nutrition meal plans or proper footwear that were designed for marathons. I went into it with an open mind and confidence that I was ready to take on this marathon feat, as I ran consistently. My mindset at the time was if I could run 5 miles a day for 5 days, and then 1.2 miles the sixth day, there is the totality of 26.2 miles. The difference is I just needed to do that mileage in one day. Easier said than done.

As the opening ceremony kicked off the race, the winner of the NYC marathon took to the stage and provided some valuable insights. I vividly remember the advice shared, “If this your first marathon, I’d suggest you run with someone. There is something you can learn from each other. Run through it together.” The weather conditions on November 20, 2022, were the coldest since 2008. Winds were up to 30 mph making the temps feel like it was in the low 20s, even though there was a high of 38°F and low 30°F. Conditions were cold enough that the potential for hypothermia was a significant concern.

At the starting point of the corral, I had my bib on the back of my fleece, and a runner had suggested that I put my bib on the front, or I wouldn’t be in any photos. I was limited on time and could not switch the bib to the front as it was already securely safety pinned. I told the runner that I didn’t care to be in the photos, I cared more about running.

Thanks to a tip from the runner next to me, we ended up having a full-on conversation just as the bullhorn sounded and the race began. I was slightly annoyed; music was blasting in one AirPod while I was trying to carry on a conversation. I wanted to run my own race. He said, “hey, do you want to just run together, since we are keeping a steady pace?” I was a bit closed off and then remembered the advice from the beginning, “run with someone.” We kept a comfortable pace and I began to learn from the runner beside me. He had run Chicago, Berlin and this was his second time running Philadelphia. He taught me: how to run through the wind, encouraged me to hydrate at every station, to consume the energy gels, told me what to expect ahead, tracked the miles and pace, and even held my phone for me as I braced myself for the portable bathroom.

Without the runner beside me, I probably would not have drunk at every hydration station or taken any energy gels. I would have kept on running because that’s all I knew. He said, “you’ll never know when there might not be a hydration station in sight, so take what you can get as it’s handed out.” We were supportive of each other every step of the way and listened to one another. We even helped a fellow runner who went down hard, struck by a brutal leg cramp that sent him tumbling into the wooded edge of the road. Of course, the runner beside me was fully prepared, with ibuprofen ready to go.

The most agonizing stretch of the course came in Fairmount Park, where brutal winds hammered us, only to be followed by the climb into Manayunk at the 20-mile mark. Once I passed mile 20, the final 6.2 miles were absolutely brutal. I could not see the Art Museum in sight, and I kept asking the runner beside me, “Are we almost there? How many more miles?” I had officially hit the wall, and I was starting to fall apart. Tears streamed down my face, freezing almost instantly in the cold. Then reality set in. I reminded myself how far we had come, and that the only way forward was through the pain. We had to break through that mental block and keep pressing on. He told me, “As soon as the finish line comes into view, give it everything you’ve got and run through it as fast as you can. I don’t care if you lose me.”

With sirens wailing and stretchers nearby, I wasn’t sure I’d make it, but my legs kept moving. It was a hard-fought journey, and we successfully crossed the finish line five hours, fifty-four minutes and fifty-four seconds later. I didn’t expect the pain after the marathon, until I fully experienced it; my legs throbbed and stairs became my nemesis.

My intentional goal for my first marathon was to finish, no matter how much time it took, to persevere and try my best. A few key lessons from the first marathon was to keep an open mind, do what you can with what you have, and embrace the challenge ahead as a learning opportunity. I will say, the runner beside me was my superhero that day. Without him, I honestly don’t think I would have made it.