Your friends should make you greater than yourself.

I don’t know what possessed Qasim to ask me to run a marathon. He knew full well that I’m not a distance runner, let alone any type of runner when there’s no ice cream truck around. But he asked anyway. Every time we ran, we’d compare notes. He, a life-long runner, would advise me how to improve and was genuine in his praise when my pace went from 11:00/mile to 10:30/mile. He could have easily said, “You suck, I’m at 5:30/mile.” But he didn’t.

Before training began, Qasim told me, “You’re gonna thank me when this is all over. You might hate me, but you’ll thank me.” I was thanking him within the first month of training. Running was a joy and I’m glad he shared this with me. I now have the ability to crank out an easy 10 or 16 mile run just because I can.

When you have a plan to execute a goal, the plan will fall apart but the goal should not.

The training schedule I had was great. I was sticking to it, getting my miles in, everything was going great. Then the first speed bump came.

I was halfway through a 3-mile run when I received a call that a mosque in Connecticut had been shot at and I had to get there immediately to handle media relations. That week involved a lot of traveling back and forth to Connecticut and spending nights there. I brought my running gear and made sure I ran. Simple enough. I went over that speed bump and pressed on.

Winter lazily rolled in. Winter was very mild which meant the typical bone-freezing New York City cold was nowhere to be found. Perfect training weather. Everything went great until January brought the cold. That’s also when I hit my second speed bump: the flu. But I still did my 13-mile run. It was probably a mistake to run…but whatever.

Comparisons have been made.

A week before the marathon, I hit my third speed bump: some type of cold, which involved nausea, vomiting, congestion, hoarseness, and lots of bed rest. My plan was to eat lots of bananas and drink plenty of water all week to be ready for race day. This didn’t happen. I traveled to California for the marathon anyway.

Two days before the marathon, I hit my fourth speed bump: I caught pinkeye. I have no idea how this happened. I rested up for the marathon anyways.

The night before the race, I woke up every two hours following some nightmare about the marathon or in some coughing fit. I suited up and went to the marathon anyways.

A couple days after the marathon, I went to an ear, nose, and throat doctor for a checkup on all my congestion and throat issues (which just weren’t going away). He diagnosed me as having a sinus infection.

So yeah. Despite a hoarse throat, nausea, pinkeye, and a sinus infection, I completed a marathon anyways.

Only you hold yourself back.

The night before the marathon, I thought, “Maybe I should tell Qasim to go on without me. I have every excuse to not run the marathon.” I decided pretty instantly against this.

The marathon itself was doable, except around mile 19 when we began a many mile uphill battle. I ended up walking a couple of those miles. By mile 23, I thought, “You didn’t train for 4 months to walk the last bit of this. Run.”

Run.

A spectator shouted said some words of encouragement, “You’ve come so far, you’ve done great, just a bit more to go.” Another said, “I’m so proud of you!”

I moved my legs a bit faster, pumped my arms a bit harder, and reminded my body how to run. The last half mile was a dramatic stretch. The sidelines were full of thousands of people, cheering their hearts out. Runners were sprinting to ensure every last bit of energy was depleted the instant they crossed the finish line. The finish line itself was shrouded in fog, a behemoth barely visible in the distance.

Everything was a blur as I beasted my body over the finish line.

A wave of elation went through my brain, a feeling I had never felt before. This felt better than passing the NY Bar Exam.

I cried out of joy for completing this, out of sadness in missing my cousin who had passed away four years ago to the day, out of happiness that no matter what life threw at me I still went at it.