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  • Writer's pictureAmanda Wowk


November. A redeeming piece. ​ It's been over two months since the marathon. I told myself I'd write about it immediately so that I wouldn't forget a moment; so I could recount the elation of cruising through Brooklyn and its commendable crowds–with spectators spilling onto the streets to cheer your name, high-five you, and share a grin so wide that for a moment, you did feel like someone’s hero; so I could accurately capture the utter low as I held back tears when my legs turned to lead and I lost my cool around mile 22–an inevitable moment when I legitimately questioned if I had 4 more miles in me; and finally, the moment my phone/music/RunKeeper app died in the last mile, leaving me first with deafening silence, and then the uplifting, roaring crowds along Central Park South. The revelation? My phone died, of course, so I could pay finer attention to those final moments: crossing the finish line, collecting my medal, wrapping first a thin layer of foil and then a comforting hooded shawl of fleece around my tired, aching body.

Two months later, I haven't forgotten.

Most importantly, I haven't forgotten the lesson 16 weeks of training, over 100 miles of running, and a tour through New York’s five boroughs taught me: to push the boundaries of what I'm capable of. Because the ability to run a marathon was always there, I'd just partitioned it off to a part of my inner self that was too scared to see it. Looking back, when I balked at the effort that lie ahead, made wine-fueled confessions of my disinterest in lacing up and tackling those long runs, it was fear that had me questioning if I was up to the task, not ability.

And so this year, like the one before it, I will push the boundaries on what's within reach, and question anything I've previously labeled unattainable. It’s not just the power of 26.2 miles behind me, nor the promise of a new year ahead of me–it’s the unshakable conviction that my best self still lies waiting in the wings, and I only need to keep asking ‘what’s possible?’ in order to remember: ‘anything is’.

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