It has been exactly 41 days and 5 hours since I finished the Paris Marathon and I have spent exactly 41 days and 4 hours trying desperately to describe the experience in writing. I can’t. It was such a surreal journey—one of the top three highlights of my life thus far.
Since Dario and I signed up in November, my life consisted of long hours of running, constant sacrifices to train, non-stop pain from my ankle injury in January, and a nagging fear that I would not make it to race day. But every mile, every moment of pain and doubt and sacrifice was worth its weight in gold as my body delivered me across the finish line. The moment I knew I would make it, I burst into tears from a mixture of relief, pride and most of all, unequivocal happiness.
The Paris Marathon was my first marathon and it was the perfect choice. The city has a unique electric energy that was augmented ten-fold by the hordes of by-standers cheering us animatedly for most of the course. Given my limited ability to train after my injury, I didn’t expect to finish but my audience kept calling my name and I couldn’t let them down so I pushed one foot in front of the other, past the Eiffel Tower and to the Arc de Triomphe where I claimed my new title as marathoner.
I keep trying to tell my Paris Marathon story because it is too unforgettable not to share. But words don’t do it justice—or, perhaps I just haven’t found the right ones. While I continue trying to capture my memories on paper, I am hoping this video conveys an infinitesimal part of what it feels like to be a Paris Marathon finisher. It is the least I can do to thank you for coming with me and supporting me on the road to Paris.