This Sunday, September 21st, I’m running my eighth marathon.
Eleven years ago, during my senior year of college, I ran my first race: the Nike Women’s Half Marathon in Washington, DC. It was a clear, cool day, and crossing the finish line to a group of firefighters handing out Tiffany necklaces as medals made me feel like Superwoman. That sense of accomplishment, born from the climb rather than the result, changed everything and set me on a path that would reshape my life. I finished in 2:27:48.
Although I played all the rec sports (thanks, Dad)—golf, basketball, soccer, softball, figure skating, ballet, jazz, tap, and sailing—I was not athletic. I found joy and independence in competitive sailing, but otherwise preferred to sit on the sidelines with a book or cook at my Memere’s side with the sounds of Ina Garten drifting in from the television in the other room.
But that half in DC set something in motion for which I will always be grateful: radical self-belief.
It taught me that self-belief is not a single choice; it’s something you practice mile by mile. Each marathon since has asked me to trust that I can get through the next stretch, no matter how long or hard it feels.
One of my dreams is to complete all six of the World Marathon Majors, now seven with the addition of Sydney (… ugh! I mean, yay!). So far, I’ve finished three: New York, Berlin, and Chicago, helped along by the community I found after joining Brooklyn Track Club in 2018. I’ll run Berlin for the second time in four days (eeeeeeeeee), and although it’s one of my favorite courses for how flat and fun it is, New York remains my favorite. Not only was it my first major, but it also takes place on sacred ground otherwise known as Home. Beyond those races, I’ve loved Paris, Copenhagen, and a very special non-major: a virtual NYC Marathon in 2021, which was also my first 26.2. More than thirty friends, along with my dad, joined me on foot or by bike that cold and windy January day. I had trained for two marathons with my friend Jake in 2020, Paris and NY, but both events were cancelled by COVID so I pivoted. The support of my friends and family reminded me how powerfully a community can carry you through.
Berlin 2023 gave me a story I will never forget. In the first mile, another runner named Sarah, with glitter on her cheeks and energy that radiated like sunshine, tapped me on the shoulder and asked if she could join me in the race. She said it looked like I was chasing a Boston Qualifying time, which was 3:30:00, the 2023 standard in my age bracket. I said yes and took out my headphones. She became the greatest gift of that day - we called each other our angels.
Sarah shares the name of my late grandmother, whose family escaped the Holocaust through Ellis Island and settled in the Bronx. Running freely through the streets of Berlin, I felt my grandmother’s presence and the weight of that history. Even though I didn’t grow up in a strongly religious household (my mom is Jewish and my dad is Catholic), it’s hard to explain how deep those feelings go, how much of our story seems to live in us at a cellular level, and how it shapes the way we hope for a kinder, safer, happier world.
When we crossed the finish line, I saw 3:43:41 on the clock. Not a BQ, but a perfect mirror of numbers called a palindrome that felt like another quiet sign. Two weeks later, I ran Chicago for fun and, without intending to, finished in exactly the same time down to the second. I could hardly believe my eyes. I had to triple-check my own times.
Those miles, and the lessons tucked inside them, shape how I approach Le Fil. Building something new asks for the same steady faith you need at mile 24: keep moving, stay present, and let the work prove you right. It is also what makes leadership, whether you’re guiding a team, fostering entrepreneurship, or nurturing an idea, both demanding and deeply rewarding.
Ina Garten’s Be Ready When the Luck Happens reminds us that preparation allows chance to meet us halfway. I mention it because Ina is a personal hero (see above!), and BCS serendipitously mentioned the other day that she’s reading her memoir, too. Life is funny like that. The message echoes what running has taught me: if you show up, put in the work, and give your best, opportunities find you. From there, you bring it to life through that little-big thing called self-belief.
So, off to Berlin we go. This time with a big goal in mind: a Boston Qualifying time of 3:25:00. Here’s to being ready when the luck happens and seeing magic, not miles.
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Alexandra
Thank you to my friends, family, and coach for all the shared miles, laughs, and support along the way. Couldn’t have done it without you.
