Running With Faith, Strength, and Gratitude: NYC Marathon 2025 Race Recap
“But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”
At the finish line
‘A marathon will show you who you are long before you cross the finish line” Joy
This bible verse carried me through every step of those 26.2 miles. So many words of encouragement and prayers lifted me along the way—but when weariness came, especially after the Queensboro Bridge, Isaiah 40:31 became my anchor. Thank you to my sister friend Jo-Ann whe share this verse with me the night before the marathon.
Let’s start from the beginning.
I woke up several times on marathon morning—first at 1:30 a.m., then again at 3:30 a.m.—and of course, it didn’t help that the clocks had changed that same day. By 5:30 a.m., I was finally up and getting ready. Everything was packed from the night before so that Lincoln (my amazing husband) could drop me off to meet my friend Cruz.
We made our way to the start line in Staten Island, reminiscing about past races and sharing nerves and excitement. After Cruz dropped us off, we entered the runners’ village with about 1.5 hours until Janell and Bridgette’s wave, and 2.5 hours until mine—Wave 5.
As we passed through security, the cannons fired for the early waves. Police helicopters hovered above the Verrazzano Bridge, speakers echoed race announcements, and runners were stretching, hydrating, and standing in line for the porta-potties. The energy was electric.
By 11 a.m., it was time to head to my orange corral. After the national anthem and one final blast of the cannons, we were off!
My friends’ advice echoed in my head: “Enjoy the first mile. Take pictures. Don’t start too fast.” So I did just that—snapping a few selfies on the Verrazzano, soaking in the view of the NYC skyline, and pacing myself. I felt amazing and couldn’t wait to see my family at mile 8.
Running through Brooklyn and Queens felt like one giant block party—music, cheers, and endless energy. I’m not usually a big crowd person, but running through those streets surrounded by so many cultures, faces, and signs of encouragement from people all over the world was powerful. Over 130 countries were represented that day, and I felt that unity deeply.
By mile 8, I spotted my family at BAM, handed off my lightweight sweater (it was getting hot!), and kept going strong. I stopped at every water station to stay hydrated—heat is not my best friend—and I was determined to stay smart and steady.
Then came the Queensboro Bridge. I hadn’t studied the course in detail, so I wasn’t expecting that climb. As I started the ascent, I felt good… until I didn’t. The bridge felt endless—quiet, isolating, almost like running in a tunnel where time slows down. It was here that fatigue started to creep in. I took some energy wafers and salt tabs, but when I looked up, my pace group was gone. I knew then that my goal time might not happen—but finishing strong was still the mission.
I missed seeing my family again at mile 17 due to train delays, which was tough. But I pressed on. The Bronx brought more crowds, music, and rolling hills that felt steeper than they looked. The energy there was electric—it kept me moving when my legs begged me to stop. But at mile 18, my Lemur run family was there cheering me on, I needed that push.
Around mile 22, I saw my Rockaway run friends Sarah and Courtney cheering—what a lift! A quick hug, and I was back on course. By mile 24, my stomach reminded me it needed real food. A banana at the water stop felt like gold in my hands—simple, real, and exactly what I needed.
Finally, Central Park. The crowd noise grew louder, the energy more intense. My body was tired, but my spirit was full. At mile 25, I saw my family again—and their faces gave me that last push I needed.
Crossing the finish line, I expected to cry—but instead, I was overwhelmed with joy and deep gratitude. God had carried me every step of the way.
Later that night, as I tucked my son into bed, my youngest, Lem, said, “Mom, I think I want to do a marathon too.”
And just like that, it was all worth it. To inspire, to persevere, to show my boys what faith, strength, and determination look like—this is why I run.
This marathon wasn’t just about running 26.2 miles. It was about reclaiming my strength, my faith, and my confidence after injury. It was about trusting God’s timing and remembering that even when the road feels long, He renews our strength.
To everyone who prayed, cheered, texted, or believed in me—thank you. This one’s for you.
My Family after the finish line
