What do PPTC, NYFC, Biofreeze, Janice Fuld, and Kayley Hoffman have in common?

Donna Newton
Nov 4 · 7 min read

You all saved my life, in a way. THANK YOU.

The longest I’d ever run at one time before April 2018 was eight miles.

Finishing a marathon is something I never thought I could do, and I couldn’t have done it without the Prospect Park Track Club. Every one of you is partially responsible for this achievement (also Biofreeze in the Bronx! — at point when I was desperately wondering if I could take more Advil and how long it would take to kick in). Although I fell short of my slightly too-ambitious goals, let’s mark yesterday down as a big win.

I ran 2019 for the official charity partner team of New Yorkers for Children — a terrific organization supporting families and kids in NYC, especially those in the foster care community — and I exceeded my fundraising goal three weeks prior to the race. I borrowed the ingenious “rewards” strategy Crystal Cun employed last year — her rewards were better and more charming, but the strategy definitely worked. (Thanks, Crystal!)

Backing up a little bit: PPTCer (also my playwriting teacher) Crystal Skillman suggested I try a half in 2018, while we were doing Speed work with my inspiring neighbors Coaches Charlene and Tony. At that subsequent half, I met Janice Fuld, who awed me with the fact that she’d run 5 miles to the start in order to get her marathon training miles in that day — a feat I was sure was superhuman. We would train together many weekends this summer and fall; her unflagging optimism is a superhuman feat.

I pushed through my PT and early training this spring, though a long-term relationship ended unexpectedly in May, and I often felt, while running, that my broken heart would burst again and again. Whenever it rained during training, the day matched my misery — but all you MTG people still called out to me “Good work!” as you flew past me in the other direction (especially looking at you, Stephanie Mei, and Adam & Sara Devine). Then — also unexpectedly, I lost my job in August. I struggled to breathe as I trained in the heat, wondering what the hell I was doing, thinking I couldn’t possibly actually achieve this crazy thing. But I kept on running, because by then I needed to. I intended to accomplish what I set out to do.

I raised my hand to rep PPTC in the Opening Ceremonies and signed up for the bus to the Magic Tree. Both events were blessed (cursed?) with cold, clear weather and lots of friendly people willing to answer all of my questions. The Magic Tree was as magical as promised — mostly because of the people underneath it, and how the morning sun shone through the branches, eventually warming our muscles.

The lines for the porta-potties proved as long as legends told; a woman from North Carolina was in one for a long time — we knocked on the door to see if she was ok. She was just hoping to stay a little warmer as she was underdressed and hadn’t anticipated the cold. I’d brought extra gloves, a hat, and an extra T shirt, and led her back to the tree to give them to her. I got rewarded for when Eric gave me his poncho as he headed off to his corral.

Separated from my Wave 3 Green teammates at the corral, I started the race alone; the sun was generously warm, and the stunningly beautiful views of Brooklyn, Manhattan, the harbor and the ocean spread out, gleaming on either side of us. I loved seeing the shadows of the runners moving along on the upper level of the bridge.

Photobombed by a banana in the corral.

Our course took us along the streets in Bay Ridge; people were friendly and enthusiastic; I was glad I decided to pin my name to my shirt, there were so many shout-outs along the way. At about mile 4–5 I caught up with MTG and long-run training pal Kayley Hoffman, and was really thrilled to find her. We ran most of the rest of the way to Queensboro bridge together, and on-and-off throughout the race.

Running through Brooklyn was FINE. I high-fived so many kids and hit the power boost button on all the signs, which made me feel invincible. Kayley high-fived a puppy paw. Some of my besties greeted us at 4th and 14th street; big hugs all around.

In Park Slope; NYFC & PPTC in front, Kayley to my left, WHARR on my back.

Once in the Slope, Kayley and I were cheered and greeted along the whole stretch, but the PPTC Cheer zone was incomparable, and the adrenalin let-down after that hit me harder than I’d expected. But Fort Greene and beyond came through with some really amusing signs and plenty of enthusiasm. In Williamsburg, the crowd alternated from the mostly silent but smiling Orthodox community to the entitled hipster families wheeling their strollers across the street directly in the path of runners (I deliberately chose to keep the descriptor “entitled,” even after the editing process).

Mile ten was when a little pain kicked in around the right knee. (Side note — after my very first half marathon in October 2018, I had several overuse/under-train injuries. Orthopedic surgeon Dr. Meghan Bishop diagnosed ITBS, proximal hamstring, peroneal tendonosis [all on the right side], sciatica, AND piriformis syndrome [both sides] — and assured me I could run a marathon if I was resolute about PT.) I slipped a few Advils in at the next hydration station, reminding myself I’d done months of PT and trained hard for this, so pain was going to have to take a back seat.

I told Kayley I’d start my playlist to get me over the Queensboro bridge, and it definitely gave me the kick I needed. I sailed over the bridge, practically dancing, thinking — the last ten will be a breeze if the Advil holds on.

(HAH.)

Kayley and I lost and found each other all along First Avenue, which was so thronged with cheering spectators it was hard to focus on anything but running. (Although around mile 18, I saw a sign I wished I’d seen earlier: “Find the cutest ass and follow it to the finish!” [sic]).

Pain in my right knee increased as we approached the Bronx, spreading down into the calf and shin. Once in the Bronx, both my quads started to cramp, and I wondered where/how I could stop to apply a little packet of Biofreeze I’d picked up at the Expo. Then I turned a corner, and the marvelous, magical Biofreeze team was there! They sprayed me down and I sailed off again, invincibility temporarily restored.

My feet started to hurt as we approached the bridge into Manhattan, then they cramped up. I stopped at the side of the bridge to try to stretch them, then slowly moved on again. Harlem brought great beats to run to and the sense that we were approaching the Park, which meant the finish. Kayley and I found each other along Fifth Avenue again, but got separated. When turning into the Park, my right knee and quad froze up. I had to stop to apply the Biofreeze gel, which helped, but the cramps just repositioned themselves in my feet, alternating from right to left, and I started to hobble. I was still only 7 or so minutes off my goal, so I trudged onward, having lost sense of exactly how far along we were.

At mile 25, my left leg seized up completely with cramps everywhere, especially right above the knee. I dragged myself to sidelines, and found I couldn’t move the leg at all. Two gentlemen tried to talk me through some stretching but they weren’t runners, I could tell. My quad was so seized up, it seemed to have forced my patella out of correct position. With my fingers, I forced it back into place on my knee, and heard it snap—hoping it was a good snap. Mentally seeing all my goals falling away, I seriously wondered if I would DNF at mile 25. I massaged my leg, I rocked back and forth. I tried to walk; I couldn’t. A volunteer came over and called a medic, telling me it would be a few minutes. I looked him in the eye and said “I’m going to finish this race.” He said “You are.” And just then, Kayley appeared.

I told him, “Thanks. I’m going with her.” And I took off, running — I don’t know how — joining her.

She had some magic left from the tree, I think, and assured me I was so close.

The last mile and a half I just pushed through pain. When they called out “Prospect Park Track Club” as I stepped on the finish line, that was a miraculous little reward. I collected my medal, my recovery bag, and eventually, my poncho. I’m not sure how I got to the school but I did, and there you all were, cheering — essentially, saving my life.

Congratulations to everyone. No matter whether you ran, cheered, volunteered, or just sent good thoughts our way — we’ll mark yesterday down as a big win. (Although I think I may stick to half-marathons in the future. Ask me again in a couple of months.)

Tired; happy. Going home.
One good thing about age: age-graded. :)

Donna Newton

Written by

Playwright; WHARR; #NYR fan; "Integrity is doing the right thing when no one is watching." Advocate for http://NFED.org; opinions are mine.

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