As Summer officially kicks off, so does Fall marathon training. Normally, this consists of making schedules, mapping out miles, focusing on extra mobility/physical therapy and chasing that elusive BQ. While I'll be doing all of those things, there's a more ambitious task at hand this go around.
With any luck and the help of Nike NYC's Project Moonshot, I may just get to my end goal. My moonshot isn't about a time on a clock or a PR (although, that's definitely on my mind). To better understand where I'm coming from, I'll rewind to a major crossroads in my life.
November 7, 2017, just two days after the New York City Marathon last year, my entire world crumbled before me. I'll never forget when he called. I'll never forget what he said. I'll never forget the ineffable pain that consumed me immediately and still to this day. The life I'd created with him over the past 6 years combusted and I was left to pick up the jagged fragments alone.
If you're new to this page and to my story, I wrote an open letter to him sometime after that phone call. You can read it here. What I haven't written too much about are the irreversible changes in my character because of his actions.
After I learned of his second life, I was left to question every single thing about our relationship, more specifically, question every single thing about me. I stopped eating, running, really living. I spent more days in my bed with the door closed, hiding from everyone and everything. All I could do was think about what I wasn't and what I must have done to lose him, especially in the way that I did.
What I don't talk about is the lethal hit to my confidence, the holes scored in my personality and hearty shake in self-secureness. All things running helped to shape my life since 2010. It took time without running, without him, to realize I allowed him to take away my most valued passion, in a fraction of the time I'd devoted to building myself up.
This year's New York City Marathon, November 4, 2018, will be more than just a marathon, more than just a race. It'll mark a year fumbling around in this unfamiliar life. I've had more bad days than good, where I'm fearful I won't ever feel like myself again. But I know the old relentless, determined part of me must be in there somewhere, otherwise, I wouldn't be fighting so hard for this.
I know the power of a marathon and indescribable human connection that accompanies it. I've been there before many times. This race is a metaphor for what I've been tirelessly working towards these last several months. Grit, determination, fatigue, struggle, teamwork, accomplishment, bliss and with any luck, success.
This is a race to find myself again.
This race is my moonshot.