Taking another brief interlude to write about one of my other passions: running. In many ways though, this one also has a strong tie to food and cooking, as eating and fueling yourself properly is key to good running. Plus, running around gives you a good excuse to eat whatever delicious baked goods you make. On Sunday, I’ll be running my sixth marathon, so I thought it would be an appropriate time to reflect, and an appropriate place to house my thoughts. Happy reading (and running)!

There are a myriad of reasons why people run: for fitness, for therapy, for transport, for friendship, for a cause (all good reasons). For me, the story of my love of running begins in Boston:

I was born on Boston Marathon day in 1989 at Brigham and Women’s Hospital, just a couple of miles west of the finish line. My mum always recounts watching the first runners cross the finish line from the small television in the hospital room, as she and dad waited — it was the first year that they didn’t get out to watch the race in person. I like to think that the happy coincidence of being born on the same day in the same city as one of the world’s biggest races somehow played a role in my running proclivity, but running (and my love for it) has also been a gradual progression for me — one that has grown stronger with time.

As a tall and long-legged kid growing up, I was a natural sprinter, wicked fast, but I never really did any sort of distance running (my sweet spot was the 50-to-100 meter dash). It wasn’t until I moved to New York City after college that I started to go for more distance runs — long stretches along the Hudson River and sometimes up through Riverside Park. There was no timing, no stopwatches, just me, the pavement, and a lovely sunset (or sunrise). Running was a natural release for me at the end of a long day, or a way to get my endorphins going early in the morning before work. My favorite morning run when I lived in lower Manhattan was over the Brooklyn Bridge, touching down in Brooklyn and back into Manhattan, all before 7 a.m. It wasn’t that I ever felt I needed to log a certain distance, it was that it felt good to just keep going.

Above: Running the Brooklyn Bridge at sunrise.

Above: Running the Hudson River at sunset.

A few years after settling into my running routine in New York, I decided to sign up for my first half-marathon, in early 2014. I figured if I was already running 4 or 5 miles, why not try to double that, and then some? It was a nice way for me to keep doing what I love, but also challenge myself. I remember the first time I broke through 5 miles during one of my training runs; it was this euphoric feeling like any ‘first’ thing you do. After that it was 7 miles, and then 9 miles, and eventually 13.1 miles. My whole family came out for that race — two lovely loops around Central Park, followed by a hearty brunch. Not long after and still on my runner’s high, I decided to sign up for my first full 26.2-mile race, and six months later, I was at the starting line of the Chicago Marathon. And so began what would become five half-marathons and five full marathons over the course of the next five years (from New York City, to Philadelphia, to Chicago, to Paris, to Berlin).

Above: Getting ready to run the New York City Marathon.

The beauty of running is you don’t really need much to do it — just a good pair of running shoes and the motivation to get to it. Whenever I travel, I always pack a pair of running shoes, as I find one of the best ways to experience a new city is to run through it and around it. When you run long distances through a city, you’re able to connect the dots of different neighborhoods, figure out which streets lead to which parks, and which back-alleys offer shortcuts. There was one summer when I did marathon training in four different cities — London, Paris, New York City, and Washington, D.C. — traversing each city’s terrain (and eating plenty of baguette sandwiches in Paris, of course).

Another thing I love about running is you can go at your own rhythm, in your own way. There’s often a perception that runners are of a certain physique, and that’s not the case. One thing I love about the start of a marathon is when you’re warming up and waiting for the race to start, and you look around and see people of all different ages, sizes, and running levels — from those who are about to run their first-ever marathon, to those who are about to run their 50th marathon. There is a certain camaraderie that exists among all those who are crazy (and badass) enough to show up at the crack of dawn to run 26.2 miles. And everyone has their story — from those who put ‘running a marathon’ on their bucket-list, to those who are running to raise money and awareness about a cause they hold dear.

Above: Nearing the finish line of the Berlin Marathon, 2018. Below: Shortly after crossing the finish line.

It’s not always easy, and that’s partially what I love about running. There are mornings, especially during the winter, when I wake up and just want to stay submerged in my comfortable sheets. It takes a lot of self-will to get up and out the door. A lot of running is self-accountability. You set a goal, and stick to it — whether it’s deciding you’re simply going to get out of bed that morning, or signing up to run a marathon. There are times when I’m out running for hours at a time during marathon training, and I’m the only one holding myself accountable. If I decide to stop and chill on the waterfront, no one would know, but then I would know, and I would feel it during the race. For the Berlin Marathon alone, I logged about 465 training miles over 102 days. It can take a lot of self-motivation, but I’m also lucky to have wonderful family and friends for moral support. With all of the pain and grit though, I’ve always told myself, I never want running to become a chore. Every time I decide to run a marathon, I want to do it happily.

Running is also just as much a mental activity as it is a physical activity. I remember my high school track coach would always say, “running is 99% mental, and 1% physical,” as we zipped down the tarmac. While there may be some exaggeration, the underlying message is there. If you don’t believe you’re going to be able to run a certain distance or finish a race, chances are you likely won’t. I’ve had to run entire races in the pouring rain (no complaints), and it really becomes a mind-over-matter situation. Cheesy as it sounds, telling yourself you can do it is half of the work. I’ll never forget running my first marathon, and around mile 22 (when those last several miles start to feel like the longest miles you’ve ever run), seeing someone holding up a sign that read, “When your legs give out, run with your heart.” It was exactly what I needed for that extra boost to get me to the finish line. Ever since then, I’ve always written that saying on my arm for every marathon, as a reminder and motivator.

I hope to eventually make it back to Boston for the marathon (a lifelong dream of mine). My last piece of “why I run” that I’ll leave you with is motivation — to motivate others. There is something contagious about running and getting others to run. For me, it was being a young girl in Boston and hearing about these storied marathon runners who would eat mountains of pasta the night before running 26.2 miles. At one of my recent races, I remember seeing another young girl holding up a sign that read, “You are my hero,” and my heart just melted. If I can get just one other person motivated to run, that’s happiness for me.