​​Then, onto the bus! 
I don’t know how many buses are driving into Staten Island
But it must be hundreds
The logistics are mind-boggling 
The number of runners
And volunteers 
And paper cups
And liters of water and gatorade 
And gels and bananas 
And green ponchos 
And blue ponchos 
And trucks to pick up clothing 
And medics 
And port-a-loos 
And pots of vaseline 
And the list just keeps going 

It is unnerving to pass an army tank
A soldier stands with rifle at the ready
We pass through security 

At the Start Village
We wait in the Fred’s Team tent 
I meet a girl who is running because her mom passed away ten years ago from cancer 
Another worked in admin at Sloan and is now re-training as a nurse 
We sit on a tarp and chat 
Nibbling bagels and drinking water 
Four friends dressed as Dorothy, Lion, Tinman, and Scarecrow, delight

An announcer calls for the Wave 1 runners
Everybody cheers
A little while later, the start gun booms 
A wave of nerves sweeps through the tent 
Wave 2. 
Wave 3. 

11am, several hours after we arrived
Wave 4 is finally called
In the excitement, I don’t get to wish my new friends luck
Thousands of people stream over to the start line corrals 
Divided not only by wave, but by number and color
Wave 4, Corral A, Green 

As I walk into my corral
Someone says we’ll be on the bottom half of the bridge 
Phew, won’t need to conquer my fear of heights today! 

A woman sings the American national anthem 
She belts it out, sings even higher when we aren’t expecting it
Before jumping in to run the marathon herself
The runners cheer 

A male voice: “On your marks…” 
I don’t hear the gun
But everyone starts running
So I run too

Straight onto the lower level of the Verazzano
The low hanging clouds mean
There isn’t much of a view 
Just thousands of men and women
Shuffling on down the road

The first mile goes by in a blink
As soon as we are off the bridge
Men peel off to the sides of the road to pee
Women call out, “Not fair!”
One brave woman yells “Penis envy!”
And the other women laugh

In Fort Hamilton 
Small groups of people 
Stand on the overpasses above the road 
Cheering despite the cold and wet 

We run past Dyker Heights, Bay Ridge, and into Sunset Park
The different flavors of the neighborhoods 
Polish, Chinese, Latin
Evangelical churches with giant billboards 
And tiendas buenas 

I get a kick out of running past Green Wood Cemetery 
This is my neighborhood 
(The area, not the cemetery)
I live in Brooklyn!
I’m running the NYC Marathon!

In Park Slope the crowd is wild
Thousands of people line the streets 
I am so glad Paula sewed my name to my shirt
Perfect strangers yell out 
“Go LuLu!” “You got this LuLu!”
While others chant, “LuLu! LuLu!”
​Aaron texts and tells me to slow down
Not to go too fast too soon
It is hard not to get swept up in the excitement 

At mile 7
Paula happens to be the first person I see that I know 
I pull over and give her a hug 
Within the same block
I see Gabriel and Deborah
Miles and Matt and
Alana 
It is so encouraging to see my people in the crowd
Faces beaming

The course takes us past the Barclays Center
Giant screens and an announcer calling out names
We run past the Brooklyn Academy of Music
I worked there briefly, before I was really ready to work again
It was hard
Now I’m running the marathon. 

The Hasidic section of Williamsburg is quiet
Except for gaggles of bemused looking schoolgirls
Who are trying to figure out how to safely cross the running river

The party resumes in upper Williamsburg with
DJs leading enthusiastic crowds
In ecstatic beat-driven dances 
The air reeks of beer 
The ground is littered with paper cups 
I didn’t expect to hurt from smiling

​Over the Pulaski Bridge into Queens
Rounding the corner I see
My name in rainbow letters on a card
Being held high in the air by Katherine,
Next to her, grinning like Cheshire Cats,
Aaron, Jesse, Brenda, Paul, Naomi, and David
I run to them, smooch Aaron, and keep running
I see Annie, Marc, and Laura
Well, I hear them before I see them --
An excited “Lu Lyons!” yelled across the street 

Walk/running across Queensboro Bridge 
I start getting emotional
The red and white stacks of Big Allis 
Familiar sights from my first hospital room at Sloan

Everyone had said coming into Manhattan
We would be met with a wall of sound
It isn’t as loud as Park Slope 
But the crowd is enthusiastic 

Up First Avenue 
I keep wanting to cry 
We have driven up and down this road 
Countless times for hospital appointments 
When my immune system was too weak for mass transit 
And my life was pick lines and ports and needles and counts 

Don’t waste energy, stay focused
Mile 17
Memorial Sloan Kettering 
The glorious Fred’s Team supporters 
Orange and white pompoms waving in the wet 

Up through East Harlem 
Thinning crowds 
The water stations are treacherous 
Thousands of discarded cups 
Disintegrate into a pulpy mess in the rain 

Across the Willis Avenue Bridge
Into da Bronx and mile 20
Body flagging, legs cramping
Feet hurting
Lower back aching and
Brain no longer computing
Is a marathon 23 miles or 26?
How many kilometers are in a mile? 
I have no idea how far I have to go
It is raining and 
Everything Hurts

Aaron and the Rabinowii clan appear 
I tell them I’m dying
I want to stop and fall into their arms 
But they all look so excited 
I have to keep going 

Further down the road 
I see my name on another giant card 
Beneath it is Bob from the Lyric 
His smile and cheers give a much needed boost 
Even though I’ve been walk/running 
By chance, I am always running, when I spot my friends in the crowd ​

​Across the Madison Ave Bridge and
Down Fifth Avenue 
I have been running forever and 
I’m never going to finish 
Whose insane idea was this???

Into Central Park
My legs and feet ache 
I am walk/hobbling 
A policewoman calls out with a loudspeaker 
“Come on LuLu, you’re so close! Keep going, you got this! 
I start running again
“Atta girl. Keep going!”

Mile 25
Oh my god. When does this thing end? 
It is dark, it is raining
Where is the finish line? 

Turn right onto West 59th
The crowd is ecstatic
I am shuffling/running/crying 
I realize they’re going to take us through Columbus Circle
Faaark. It’s so far away. 

Across the longest block in the world
Make a right
Back into the park 

I can hear the finish line
I want to see it 
I want to scream and cry
I want the pain in my legs to go away 

Keep moving keep running
You got this, you got this
You’re nearly there 

The finish line is brightly lit 
The crowd is cheering 
The announcer says 
“Lulu from Fred’s Team sees that finish line!” 
Yes she does!!! 

I try to remember to keep my head up as I cross the line 
You want a good photo
You want a good rest 
You want to never run anywhere ever again 

I walk/cry toward my medal
I walk/cry down the road 
Someone hands me a recovery bag
I spot the Fred’s Team volunteers
One of them comes over, takes my bag, guides me to the tent 
I am a blubbering mess
I am so proud of myself 
I can’t believe I just ran a marathon 
Everything hurts
I just ran a marathon
I am so happy
Everything hurts. 

The Fred’s Team folk are warm and wonderful 
People who I only met in person 24 hours ago
But have tracked my journey
Since I signed up in May, and
Have become my lifelines 
The sit me down and ply me with gatorade and chips

I have to walk to meet my family 
Up and over the pedestrian bridge 
(Who puts stairs at the end of a marathon?! 
Cruelty!!!)
Out to 72nd Street to meet the Rabinowii clan 
Katherine places a laurel wreath on my head 
Danni appears, he had seen me at the end but 
I was in the zone 
And missed him 

​Downtown to David and Katherine’s
Naomi massages my feet 
We marvel that I don’t have a single blister
I shower and discover awful chafing beneath my sports bra 
The water stings but it’s also
A huge relief

I eat a mountain of salad 
Fresh crusty bread 
And two helpings of homemade lasagne

Paul and Naomi drive us home 
Where I collapse into bed
The next morning I am still on a runners high

To my own amazement
I head back out to Sloan Kettering
I have been invited with Fred’s Team to visit the pediatric ward 
It is strange to smell the antibacterial foam
See patients with their rolling dancing partners 
Just a few floors down from where I was a few years ago 

We meet a sixteen-year-old boy
Who is undergoing treatment for leukemia
I tell him I was going through the same thing three years ago
His eyes widen
You’ve got this, I tell him
You’ve got this

The end. ​