Today, I took my best shot at finally being able to consider myself not just improved from my prior state of depression, but more. Back in 2019 I found myself both engaged to a lovely, caring and stunningly attractive woman and also, with her support, qualified for the 2019 New York City Marathon. Unfortunately, life intervened. My knee gave me trouble in training. We did get married that year (hooray!) and settled in together, and then in 2020 the CoVID-19 pandemic hit. The 2020 marathon, which I had deferred to due to needing to have my knee scoped for a second time, was cancelled - so I elected to defer to 2022. 2022 rolled around and my left ankle, reconstructed when I was in college, began to give me fits which turned out to be the severe arthritis I had been warned lo those many years ago was a likely effect of that reconstruction.
Life goes on.
But today, I woke up early. My wife hugged me, kissed me, and sent me off looking half like a crazy person in an assortment of warm donation clothing. I took the subway to the Staten Island Ferry. I got on the boat with a huge crowd of people like me, many in weird clothes for warmth we planned to ditch or donate, clutching clear plastic bags of bric-a-brac. We all nervously and excitedly chatted all the way to SI and got on buses. 45 minutes later (and how the hell did it take that long, it's a 10 minute walk, people) we got off and entered the Start Village.
I was assigned Orange Village (Orange Wave 5 Corral E), which meant that when the starting cannon sounded, I found myself running along the left side of the top deck of the Verrazano Narrows Bridge, looking at the towers of Manhattan and Long Island City where I live and thinking Holy crap, that is a loooooong way away, and that's only the halfway point...! but at the end of the bridge, I just kept going.
I saw friends and family along the way, a whole village turned out just for me. My wife made a huge sign which was a surprise; a big picture of our beloved cat Stella, captioned 'MOVE YOUR ASS, IT'S ALMOST DINNER TIME!!!' A friend in Williamsburg handed me a champagne flute with a colorful concoction in it and I drank it dramatically for two blocks to great applause from the younger Brooklyn crowd who were waving beers and drinks themselves (it was Gatorade, but don't tell anyone that).
I saw my cousin in Downtown Brooklyn near her community garden. I saw friends in Thunder Alley on First Avenue, in Harlem, and in Central Park. And at the end of Central Park South, everyone who could had gathered to show me the cat sign again as I ran past.
I was still running. I'd begun to have fear around the Queensboro Bridge when my right leg and lower back began to spasm, so I stopped on the bridge and stretched and shook it out as best I could - and when I got onto First Avenue, two blocks later there was a New Yorker standing there with a sign reading THERAGUN??? so I ran over. I stuck my right hip out and pointed at my right butt cheek and lower back, and this angel of mercy enthusiastically whacked me with his massage gun for 30 seconds - and the muscle released. I could feel it. So I kept running.
Nine-plus miles later, after passing my crew on Central Park South, I immediately turned right through the gate into the park, at a sign that read '26.0 miles!!!' and told Siri I needed rez by Underworld, right fucking now.
I ran the last 400 meters to Rez in my headphones, and five of us runners who were grouped up spontaneously just before the end all grabbed hands, crying, and shouted as we ran. We broke apart to cross the line.
I finished the New York Marathon in 5:26:25. My goals had been: "Don't hurt myself, finish, in under six hours, don't poop myself." In that order, I had been fond of saying.
Got four for four.
I'm not just better. I'm not just married. I'm not just a runner. I'm a happily-married marathoner, 145 lbs below my start weight, with a resting heart rate of 52.
It feels pretty fucking good.
Remember, if you're in a bad place: It can get better. You have to want it enough, and you have to be willing to risk enough (which was the hard part for me) and you have to be strong enough - but any misery you experience now will make life so much sweeter when you come out. I promise you. Trust me.
Thank you, E2. You were my village when I needed to be caught from sliding down. You did. You caught me, and hugged me, and set me gently upright and dusted me off and after a few years sent me back out into the world.
I'm doing well.