The Long Road to the Paris Marathon

Getting to the finish line was about more than running 26.2 miles

I was crying when I finished the 2024 Paris Marathon. I didn’t cry because Paris was my slowest marathon, though it was. I didn’t cry because I was exhausted, though I was. I didn’t even cry because it was my last marathon, though it might be. No, I was crying because the journey to this finish line had started not five-plus hours earlier, but two-and-a-half years earlier when I had a DNF at the New York City Marathon.

The 2021 NYC Marathon was going to be my fifth and, I hoped, my fastest. The paces on my training runs let me dream of breaking four hours. I felt so strong, and that’s what I focused on, ignoring the pain in my feet.

Ignoring the pain didn’t make it go away. In fact, it just got worse. I let myself slip and mention it when I talked to my daughter and son-in-law the day before the race.

“How are you feeling?” Catie asked.

“I feel strong,” I said. “I just wish my feet didn’t hurt so much.”

“What’s wrong with your feet?”

“It’s probably plantar fasciitis,” I said.

“And you’re still going to run the race?” Jake asked.