Being back in Boston before the 130th Boston Marathon feels like walking through a Fun Fair mixed with a business convention. The streets around Copley are closed to traffic and many stores have their doors open, ready to host running-themed events and giveaways. When I planned my trip, I signed up for three of the many free brand activations with Puma, RunHer Magazine, and New Balance. I also wanted to go to the expo which is basically a free trade show full of the latest and greatest running tech and apparel.

Look Pro

I start my big day of brands at the Puma store on Newbury Street where they were hosting a pro athlete panel and light breakfast. The store is crowded and dark when I arrive, the ambiance enhancing the bright colors of their newest gear which is on display everywhere. The Boston Marathon mascot is a unicorn and Puma has clearly leaned into this aesthetic when planning the colors of their shoes and singlets. Sherbet orange and neon pink are everywhere, just missing some sparkles to complete the mystical look.

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It’s a perfect day for running and I’m standing under the Girard Avenue Bridge along the River Drives just past mile 25 on the Philadelphia Marathon course. The race leaders have only just passed and I’m watching a sparse parade of lanky men go by. I check my phone to see where everyone I have been tracking is on course. It’s a long list of friends and teammates, but at the top is Katie Florio.

As her approximate location in the app gets closer and closer to me, I realize that I haven’t seen any other women pass by yet. As if in response to this thought, I look up and see the lead car coming around the bend in the river signaling the front of the women’s race. In the next moment, I am overwhelmed by what I’m witnessing. Just behind the lead car is one woman running alone.

It’s Katie.

She is leading the race and there is no one else near her. The guys driving the lead car are yelling out the open windows to hype up the crowd. I start screaming my head off and many of the spectators around me do the same, maybe recognizing the orange and black kit of Liberty Track Club or Katie herself who lives and runs in Philadelphia.

Five minutes later, she breaks the tape in front of the Art Museum and becomes one of the few Philadelphians who have ever won the race, completing it in 2:32:42.

Katie and I grew up in the same small town in the Philly suburbs known for being home to a prestigious golf course, lots of Wawas, and not much else. When we were in the fourth grade (around 10 years old) at St. Denis, Katie joined our school’s track team running 800s and the mile which were considered long distance for that age. She quickly distinguished herself as a natural talent despite not coming from a family of runners, and by eighth grade was running a 5:30 mile. In high school at Archbishop Carroll, she thrived on the cross country team, propelling herself to a spot at Penn State which has one of the best collegiate running programs in the country.

When she graduated from Penn State in 2015 as the Valedictorian of her school, she had a 4.0 GPA and was awarded a Big Ten Postgraduate Scholarship.1 There were many directions Katie could have taken her talents, and like many high achieving people, she started her career in finance. In 2018, she landed a job at Goldman Sachs in their Wealth Management group, the same year she ran her first marathon.

The marathon was a natural progression after years of success on the track and tricky cross country courses, but a big challenge all the same. Katie’s debut was fittingly in Philadelphia where she ran 2:43:082 which qualified her for the Olympic Trials ahead of Tokyo 2020. Since then, she has only gotten faster.

The Road to Boston

When I call Katie the Thursday before the 2026 Boston Marathon, I’m keen to hear how she has been preparing for her first pro start at a World Major. We follow each other on Strava, so I have a good sense of the work she’s been putting in, but the surrounding logistics of her life are anxiety-inducing. On top of her rigorous job at Goldman, she has two little kids at home and still manages to consistently run 100 miles per week. (For reference, if you know me and think I run a lot, I cap out around 45 miles a week.) Amazingly (to me, a caffeine addict), she does all this without drinking coffee. She tells me that she sleeps really well, which I fully believe.

As if the challenges of her normal life weren’t enough, this particular training block included some of the most brutally cold weather the northeast has felt in a long time, and Philadelphia was not immune. I ask her how she managed to stay motivated through all that and her answer is simple: she runs with a group of women in the early mornings, many of whom are also moms.

Her postpartum schedule is a big reason why Katie contacted the elite field coordinator for Boston and secured her spot amongst the pros. As she puts it, “you don't have to worry that much about time” because it's a tactical race. With its temptingly fast start and brutal hills late in the race, this makes a lot of sense. The winning times in Boston are the slowest of the World Majors3 (“slowest” being relative, of course), but can be the most epic.

In 2018, Des Linden became the first American in 33 years to win the Boston Marathon,4 running 2:39:55 in a torrential downpour. Last year, Sharon Lokedi set the new course record with her win in 2:17:22.5 With weather for this year looking good for racing and Lokedi back to defend her title, we can anticipate a winning time on the low end of that range. No matter where it lands, Katie will be in the mix, but it will be a hard fought battle.

Next Stop: Boylston Street

When I ask Katie where in the city she’s staying, she’s not really sure. She hasn’t spent much time in Boston but knows where to go to catch the elite bus down to Hopkinton on race day.

We talk about her pre-race rituals and she says she tends to be pretty chatty with the other women in the start area. She tries to “stay focused on [her] race because everyone there has different goals.” Although this isn’t her first time starting in the elite field, it’s the first time she’s doing it for a World Major where she’ll be surrounded by some of the best marathoners of our generation. She says it’ll be hard not to fan girl over some of the other competitors, and I don’t blame her.

One of Katie’s goals for Monday is to qualify for her third Olympic Trials, something she is certainly capable of. Although Boston tends to reward runners with deep course knowledge, Katie brings her own wealth of experience along with plenty of hill repeats. And when it comes to tolerating the pain in those late miles, no one is better equipped than a woman who has given birth without anesthesia.

When things do inevitably get tough, Katie says she feeds off of crowd energy. I assure her that Boston will give her plenty. Despite the race being on a Monday, thousands of people come out to watch the race. All students and government workers have the day off, and for college kids, it’s one of the biggest days of the year to party. With this year’s race coincidentally scheduled for 4/20, I expect the vibes to be a little more … let’s say… mellow than usual but overall good.

Before we hang up, I let her know that I’ll be out on the course cheering her and the rest of the runners as they go by. I haven’t seen her race since that fateful day in Philadelphia, but I know that so much of the pride I felt on that cold November morning will bubble up on Monday.

Despite our similar roots, there isn’t much about Katie’s life now that I can relate to (the no coffee thing, especially). I think that’s why it’s so exciting to see her run and watch as she represents our small town in this iconic race.

If you would like a visual of the route I am about to describe, you can follow along here. There are a few minor differences between this route and the exact route I took, but these amount to less than half a mile.

On a bluebird day with temps hovering just above freezing, 150 runners clump together at the intersection of Orchard Street and Broome in Manhattan’s Lower East side. Moments earlier, 150 cyclists had been sent off up the road, each to await their designated runner. Now, at a few minutes after 10:00am I began to shiver. Despite the bright sun, my shorts and heat from the 149 other participants are not enough to combat the chilly air.

Somewhere up the street barely within earshot the race organizer is giving the mandatory pre-race briefing. Joe DiNoto, the mastermind behind a number of unsanctioned races in NYC, is perched on a bike, megaphone in one hand and the remnants of a half smoked cigarette in the other. He lays out the few rules, reminding us how to document our progress and, half sarcastically, suggesting that we should obey traffic laws for our own safety. He knows perfectly well that anyone looking to win the day will do no such thing. That’s because we are not lined up for an ordinary race.

Joe is the founder of Orchard Street Runners (OSR), a running group known for its intimidatingly fast Tuesday night runs, 2:00am (you read that right) point-to-point races, and its marquee event, OSR30 which is held the last Saturday of March. Together with his partner Corey Weiss, an accomplished runner in her own right, they have dreamed up some of the most hectic and fun running experiences you can find in New York. The ethos of OSR is rebellion through unsanctioned racing. This means that they don’t get permits from the city, set out closed courses, or even try to find car-free spaces to host runs. Instead, they embrace the grid and gridlock of the city to foster a community of people who enjoy taking risks, are self-sufficient, and aren’t stupid. Not only do these races attract some of the fastest runners in the city, but they are also captured by a seemingly endless supply of talented photographers.

All of a sudden, the mass of runners in front of me starts moving and we’re off. I know the first half mile of the race is going to be too fast with everyone going full tilt across Delancey Street and not stopping for lights at Houston (“HOW-ston”). Last year, this initial rush caught me off guard, but this time I know what to expect. Maneuvering in ways I would never dare while running alone, I stick with the large group, shielded from the honks of frustrated cars left sitting through their green lights. I take the first quarter mile at a pace that I have no intention of holding for very long. Once through the big intersections, I settle into a smooth rhythm and find space in the 1st Ave bus lane.

As we swarm the the wide avenue, our bike escorts begin to join the throng. There are very few rules in OSR30, but having your assigned biker (and no others) with you the whole way is one of them. The bike escort’s job is to lead navigation and provide an element of safety on the open streets. They also carry their runner’s nutrition and hydration needs (extra important because the public water fountains are shut off until April) and, most critically, are responsible for documenting that their runner has hit all of the required checkpoints.

There is no set course for OSR30. Runners are given between three and six sets of coordinates one week before race day and chart their own path between them in the given order. Course cutting (if you can call it that) is encouraged and winners typically find a way to finish in less than 30 miles. The trade off with distance minimization, however, is safety because taking more direct lines usually requires going through traffic and the occasional construction site.

I first learned of OSR not long after I moved to New York. Having gotten myself immediately stuck into the running scene, I followed along as two of my new teammates took on a particularly long and rainy edition of OSR30 and won. I remember seeing the artsy black and white photos from the race and thinking it was so cool. At the time, I barely knew how to get myself from StuyTown to Midtown, so the thought of running a self-directed race to the far corners of Manhattan guided only by a set of coordinates sounded impossible. But the idea stuck and I knew I had to do it.

When I competed for the first time in 2025, there were six checkpoints excluding the start/finish (both by Cafe Katja on Orchard Street). When I got the coordinates for this year, though, I was surprised to see that there were only three which left room for a bit more creativity. No matter how you mapped it out though, the fastest way from the start to the first checkpoint is to get onto 1st Ave and take it north all the way from 1st St up to 96th St, then go west to get to the Ward’s Island Bridge at 102nd St. The outcome of this design is an insane mass of 300 people taking up what is normally a lightly active bus lane on the East Side.

I had recruited my friend Jason to be my bike escort because of his in-depth knowledge of the city and willingness to find creative solutions to my racing needs. Last year, when temps climbed into the 80s for an unseasonably warm race, he offered to get a squirt gun to shoot water into my mouth so I could stay hydrated without stopping. Although I may have threatened him with physical harm if he ever got near me with a Super Soaker, it was this kind of thinking that made him an invaluable teammate.

As the street numbers increase, we barely have to stop and wait for lights thanks to a combination of luck and Jason’s willingness to bike ahead and hold up traffic. We’d picked up a few other racers and their bikers along the way, all enjoying the benefits of Jason’s above average tolerance for getting honked at. We are also joined by a couple of our friends who had volunteered to come out and help pace me. To make the time pass, we chat and swap running stories. In a blur of disgruntled bus drivers and car exhaust, we’ve gone almost 100 blocks.

Approaching the Ward’s Island Bridge, we can see that it is already crowded with other runners, bikers, and photographers. After going up and over, we waste little time getting the necessary photo before I (politely) chuck my nearly empty water bottle and sweaty ear warmers at Jason. He hands me a gel and I head off. Not that I am anywhere close to a top contender, but I want to take the race somewhat seriously and losing time at each checkpoint is a frustration I plan to avoid.

Back over the bridge, we start heading north west towards the second set of coordinates, the northernmost point of Manhattan up in a randomly bucolic area called Inwood. Getting there means playing the lights to pick up 111th St just north of Central Park, roughly halfway across the island. From there, we’ll turn onto Saint Nicholas Ave, a diagonal street we can take through Harlem and into The Heights where we’ll face our most serious hills of the day.

By now, there’s been some turnover in my pace group of friends and the morning sun is pleasant but not overbearing. Occasionally, a random passerby gives us a cheer, much to my delight. Jason and I have perfected our method of handing off bottles and gels, and I am feeling good, even with the knowledge that we have five miles of unrelenting ascent ahead.

As we go past 180th St, we see faster competitors heading south, opting to take Broadway through the heart of Manhattan rather than going down the west side bike path. Jason and I had discussed the merits of this strategy over our pre-race bagels. We determined that taking Broadway would only shave maybe a mile off of our route and involve a lot more running through traffic, not to mention repeating the rolling hills around Washington Heights. Overall, it didn’t seem worth it. Seeing the fast guys retracing our steps, I feel even more sure of our decision to head west with its promise of different and flatter scenery.

As the street numbers climb into the 200s, we miss a turn at Dyckman and wind up further east than we need to be, looking up at the Columbia’s athletic facilities. Cutting back west and using the towering Henry Hudson as a north star, we make it into the park, leaving the path and running across open fields to efficiently get back on route.

The checkpoint is at the top of a steep hill and a number of runners have stopped at there to enjoy the peace and quiet of the wooded trail, just steps from the bustling Upper Manhattan neighborhoods. Here, our little group disbands as the other guys decide to take a short break and I press on, not wanting to delay the long trek down to the third and final checkpoint: the Staten Island Ferry Docks.

As I descend out of Inwood, I am alone for the first and only time in the race, having left Jason to refill my water again. I am grateful to have a little moment of solace in the woods and focus on quickly navigating the winding path while taking in the view of the Palisades across the river. After a few minutes, I see train tracks and find a footbridge over them that I know will lead me to the southbound bike path.

I have maybe 10 minutes to myself before my friend Tim catches up with me. He had been tracking Jason’s location and just missed me at the second checkpoint thanks to subway delays. His calm demeanor, seemingly endless knowledge of local landmarks, and ability to take great pictures while running make him the ideal companion in a long race (and concerts… he’s quite tall).

We run along in a comfortable silence, having shared many miles together over the last 12 months. After running the Philadelphia Marathon in November where Tim paced me to a new personal best time, we’d trained together throughout the winter which had been a particularly hard one on the city and everyone in it. Temps sunk below freezing and stayed there for weeks, often hovering around 0° F with windchill that made it feel much colder. Despite this, Tim and I met up for workouts and long runs where our eyelashes turned to icicles and water bottles froze.

Our determination was only matched by the cold which would not budge, and I was grateful to be scheduled for a short work trip out to San Fransisco at the end of January. I got off the six hour flight from JFK around 8:00 PM PST and went straight to my sister’s where I quickly prepared to head right back out to get some miles. By absolute chance, Tim was in town as well and came over to join me. He navigated us to Golden Gate Park and along the dark path lined with eerie sculptures to find the paddock where the bison slept. It was warm and hilly and despite my internal clock screaming at me to go to bed, one of my favorite runs of all time.

The awful winter prevented me from getting as much weekly mileage as I would have liked, but it taught me how to manage a lot of physical and emotional discomfort. Compared to what we’ve been through, running next to Tim on a chilly early spring day feels pleasant, even as we prepare to take on the long, straight slog to the finish line.

We took this route last year and faced headwinds the whole way south which frankly pissed me off. This year however, the wind is at our back and Tim jokes we should put up a spinnaker to make the most of it. Eventually, Jason catches up to us, waylaid by having to carry his bike up the steps of the footbridge. A couple easy miles later, I let myself look at my total distance for the first time and am shocked to discover we are nearly at mile 18. I double check this information with Jason before I am convinced this is in fact correct. This means that we should be done in less than two hours which feels like no time at all (just trust me on this). Naturally, it is at this moment that my left IT band starts to go.

I’d felt a twinge in the outer part of my knee on a steep downhill section a little earlier but chose to respectfully ignore it. Now, however, the discomfort is getting worse to the point where it interferes with my stride. After picking up my friends Ankan and Karena between miles 19 and 20, I have to stop for a moment to stretch it out. I’m frustrated but know that, despite the pain, I’m not going to give myself a serious injury by pressing on and that it will be a matter of managing it over the remaining 90 minutes.

Mercifully, everything else feels good and I decide to focus on that. We keep up a sharp pace down to 72nd street where our friends Caitlyn and Susan have set up a little cheer station for us. I am so incredibly happy to see them and we stop for about five minutes to chat, hug and stretch before getting underway once again.

I had given myself a few interim points along the west side to break up the 15 miles of monotony (the Little Red Light House under the GW, 125th St., 72nd St cheer zone, 34th St., and Little Island). The next one, 34th St., is just a few miles away and I am amazed at how quickly the distance disappears. Maybe it’s the mental fatigue setting in, but before I know it, we are all the way down to Little Island at 14th Street. We have started to pick off guys who are clearly fading in the late miles and it feels good to move up a few places overall. My knee is still really bothering me and I can’t push my pace without it getting worse. Somehow though, when Jason announces we’ve hit 26.2 miles, I realize I have just run my second fastest marathon time ever (including all the time we stopped for lights, friends, etc.).

As our journey between the most northern and southern points of Manhattan comes to an end, I realize we have only been cursed out by one disgruntled cyclist for running in the bike lane (which admittedly we shouldn’t have been doing but this is a RACE). I had mentally braced myself for a lot more verbal abuse, but instead most passing cyclists have given us a cheer or kind word of support. Before I know it, we’ve cleared 28 miles and have made it to Battery Park.

Weaving through the many tourists, tour guides, and scammers clogging the paths, we pause just long enough to snap the requisite photo and orient our way towards the finish. Another team arrives around the same time and asks us if we know the way back to Cafe Katja. Even in my tired and slightly hazy state, I find this puzzling because surely by now, dear reader, you have ascertained that the novelty of this race is getting to plot your own route. I yell some directions at them and then run off to make the light. In retrospect, I regret not telling them to get on the ferry.

The caffeinated gel I’d taken at mile 26 is doing its best to keep me going, but as we make our way through Lower Manhattan, I am losing a sense of urgency. My brain feels fuzzy and I am not mad that we have to slow down a little and take crowded side streets to get back into the Lower East Side. We alternate between the street and sidewalk depending on traffic. Karena leads the way, yelling at slow walkers to get out of the way and clearing my path. I shut off my brain and just focus on following her.

With less than a mile to go, we are forced to stop at a big intersection under the Brooklyn Bridge. A security guard passing by playfully asks if we are training for the marathon in November. Jason corrects him saying we are in the midst of an even longer race and I chime in to tell him we were at mile 29.4. I hear him say “Are you serious?” as the light changes and we dash off.

We pass under the Manhattan Bridge and take the final turn back onto Orchard Street. Everyone except Jason tails off because only official participants are allowed through the finish. A race volunteer is posted at Orchard and Grand to let the crowd in the finishing area know when teams are approaching. We speed up for the last block, nearly overtaking the team I helped orient on the line. I am overwhelmed by the cheers and crowd support after 30+ miles of stoic support. A gaggle of photographers snap away from all angles, capturing my elation and exhaustion.

The block is full of runners, bikers, and spectators. OSR closes down the whole street on race day and even though it’s chilly, people are out in full force. I quickly spot a group of my friends who have come out to enjoy the festivities and, after many hugs, I hobble off to get some proper food, a beer, and some fresh clothes.

Inside the warmth of Cafe Katja, I get the race highlights from other folks milling around. Eventually I check the results and find my name towards the bottom of the list, 127th out of 150. All 150 starters completed the race and nearly half finished in under four hours (better than an 8:00min/mile pace which is stupidly fast for this distance especially factoring in traffic lights).

Only 40 finishers are women.

I wish I had a profound reason for really enjoying this race, but honestly it is just cool and it feeds my romanticized vision of living in New York, especially Manhattan. It is definitely not for everyone, though. OSR is the type of running group that encourages you to run really hard and then have a cigarette at the finish line (I didn’t do that). They made medals for the winning teams shaped like brass knuckles. They got the tattoo shop next door to Cafe Katja to create race-themed designs and hyped it up so much that the wait time for runners and bikers to get inked was over an hour (I did do that).

Ultimately, though, I think that OSR30 isn’t just a race. It’s performance art - an act of defiance against gridlock of traffic and anyone who has ever told you to play it safe when you want to go fast. Whether you go into it hoping to find something deeper in yourself or just want some really sick photos, you’ll come out feeling every inch of the hard concrete in your body. You will also feel more connected to the city, the neighborhoods, and the different folks who live in them.

You don’t have to be particularly fast or young (the oldest finisher this year was 76). You just have to be tough and creative, or at least want to be.

Very special thank you to everyone who came out to cheer, bike, and run with me especially Jason - you are my literal ride or die.

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Dumb Luck

On a normal morning of a regular workday, I checked my credit card statement to discover a charge for $174 from SCC Events. I was puzzled and a bit alarmed. Usually, unrecognized charges get flagged and canceled. As I stared at my screen contemplating what to do, I noticed that the transaction was from Germany. Then, through my rising panic, I had another thought.

Months earlier, I had put my name in the Berlin Marathon lottery and then proceeded to completely forget about it. I had no idea when the lottery drawing was scheduled to take place, figuring the odds weren’t in my favor. I unsuccessfully checked my email to see if I had missed something important, and then went to the official marathon website. Toggling to the section about the lottery, I read that the race organizers recommended checking the runner portal to see if your lottery entry had been picked. Now fully shaking, I logged in and discovered that sure enough, I had been selected. It wouldn’t be for another week that I would think to look in my spam folder and find the email informing me that “the lottery fairy has drawn your name: Congratulations!”

Since I was working from my parents’ house and they were both at work, I texted our various family group chats about the news. (This was before I moved to NYC and had a community of running friends, so the number of people in my life who shared my enthusiasm was limited.)

A few weeks later, my grandmom was over for dinner and the topic of my impending trip came up. My dad made the mistake of saying in front of a room of witnesses that he would be interested in coming with me to Germany. This was very early in 2023, and with the marathon still many months away, we only had a fuzzy idea of how the trip would go. I didn’t know that what started with random chance and an off-the-cuff comment would become one of the most fun, anxious, sleep-deprived and meaningful weeks of my life.

A Quick Note

Unlike the other posts on this site, I am writing this well after the fact. Fortunately, I kept a little diary at the time which included many helpful details. I also relied on the many photos I took and supplementary communication from race week to jog my memory. There are definitely some missing pieces, but the most poignant details remain.

Arrival and Expo

My dad and I managed to arrive at JFK security at precisely the same time. He had come up from Philadelphia and I had taken the L to the A to the SkyTrain, so I still don’t know how this happened. It was Thursday afternoon and we were taking the redeye to Frankfurt where we would have a short layover before boarding our flight to Berlin, arriving Friday morning. Mercifully, all of this went off without a hitch, although I think we had about 3 hours of sleep between us as both flights were full.

The trains in Germany are about as good as trains can get, so after going through customs and baggage claim, we made our way into the city. The marathon had provided me with a three day train pass which was really nice. There aren’t turnstiles at German train stations and instead, ticket inspectors randomly come around to make sure you have the right ticket. All of this meant that as long as I hung onto my pass, I could walk on and off any train I wanted without much thought.

We stayed at the DoubleTree Berlin Ku'damm on Los-Angeles-Platz, and I remember walking in for the first time and feeling a strong sense of relief. It’s not that I especially love DoubleTrees, but this one was very recently renovated and had a nice and familiar. We were able to check in right away after agreeing to take rooms on different floors and had some much needed down time. It was a typical gray Berlin day, and we eventually headed out to Hackescher Markt to get some food and go on a walking tour that my dad had booked ahead of time. Although we were both hanging on by a thread, this ended up being a great way to stay awake and not give in to the jet lag.

That night, we went to Restaurant Marjellchen at the recommendation of our tour guide. It wasn’t far from our hotel and had excellent food with a cozy atmosphere. After all the walking, meat, and potatoes, I had no trouble falling asleep that night.

The next day brought us much more sun and some lovely fall weather. I met up with my teammate Susan to do a shake out run in the Tiergarten. Marathon aside, I highly recommend running in the Tiergarten if you ever find yourself in Berlin. It is massive and has many beautiful paths that make you forget you are in a major city.

After our run, it was time for a quick shower and breakfast at the hotel before going to the expo. I must say that I do enjoy a good hotel breakfast buffet while traveling, the one at this DoubleTree was no exception. They had a mix of American and European options which made life very easy leading into race day.

Getting down to the expo at Flughafen Tempelhof took quite a bit of time. As I discussed in one of my Tokyo Marathon posts, the expo sites for World Majors have to accommodate tens of thousands of people, which isn’t easily accomplished in a large city. Berlin uses an old air field for the expo which is both sensible and very cool.

The trains became progressively crowded as we got closer, and by the time we got off at our stop, it was obvious where we needed to go thanks to the stream of people. I had heard some horror stories about long lines to get in, but thankfully we had gotten there at a time when the lines were moving and it wasn’t too bad. My dad wasn’t able to join me in the runners-only area, so I headed off to get my official wrist band, bib and timing chip.

While most marathons these days put a timing chip in your bib (the big number you pin to your chest), Berlin uses chips that you lace onto the top of your shoe. The benefit of this is that you can go to any line at pickup and they will print your bib for you on the spot. The downside of this is that you have to a) not lose your chip which is a small piece of plastic, b) not forget to lace it correctly into your shoe, and c) remember to take it off and return it before leaving the finisher area at the race. I cannot emphasize how stressful point c) is on account of how hard it can be to untie your shoe gracefully after running a marathon. Anyone who forgets to do this is charged a fine of €60, which is a lot for a pretty useless souvenir.

Upon getting my bib, chip, and safety pins (or “needles” as the volunteer behind the table called them), I noticed that some people had gotten t-shirts. It’s pretty typical to get a shirt included in your entry fee for major races, so I asked a random guy who had one how I could get one too. To my dismay, he informed me that I was supposed to have ordered ahead and they were not free.

With this frustrating realization, I went into the second part of the expo where I found the official (not free) race gear made by Adidas. This raised my spirits after the t-shirt debacle, and I happily browsed through the many options. Everything for the 49th edition was light teal (the color scheme differs each year so the gear is unique), and I ended up picking out a very nice windproof jacket for myself, a mug for my mom, and a wooden noise maker for my dad to use while cheering on the course.

This took some time as the merch area was packed, but finally I made it to the register and headed out to meet back up with my dad. Although we didn’t hang around for too much longer, seeing the airfield was really cool. They had all sorts of tents and activities going on for the runners, rollerbladers (more on this shortly), and their families. There were some old planes on display and we noted as we walked out through the main terminal that there was no place for a security checkpoint. Before leaving, we took a quick photo and then trekked back into the city center for more sightseeing.

We ended up walking around quite a bit, the highlight of which was stumbling across the rollerblading race that takes place the day before the marathon on the same course. It was very cool to see the skaters flying along and to be part of the energetic crowd cheering for them. I got some water and a cookie from a little food stand and tried to keep my nerves at bay (unsuccessfully). I remember looking at the Brandenburg Gate and thinking that the next time I saw it, I would be about to start the marathon.

That night, we set out for a pre-race meal at a little restaurant up the street that we had scoped out. Apparently this was a very popular choice, because it was packed and the wait time was much longer than we wanted. Instead, we walked out to the main road in search of another option and stumbled across a little place on Meinekestraße with traditional German food which wasn’t busy at all. I ordered beef goulash with potatoes and a non-alcoholic beer called Jever FUN which made for an excellent meal.

By this point, my pre-race anxiety was very high and I made the mistake of checking my step count and discovering I had covered 10 miles over the course of the day and about the same the day before. I had been thinking over my race strategy and had settled on not being too aggressive with some options to pick up the pace towards the end, assuming I was still feeling ok. Berlin has a reputation for being a very fast course thanks to the mild weather and flat landscape. At the time, it was where the world record had been set. I knew I wanted to do well, but also I felt like traveling all this way only to suffer for 4 hours didn’t make much sense. I was also dealing with a sizable amount of self doubt.

Trying to relax and get some sleep was tough, although I felt a good deal of comfort knowing that if I slept through my alarms, I could rely on my dad to knock on my door. Plus, I had just gotten him a very loud noise maker. After getting my things in order, I went to bed, full of goulash and anticipation for the day ahead.

Race Day

Sunday morning gifted us with more perfect fall weather. I met up with my dad in the lobby and we set out for Berlin Zoologischer Garten Bahnhof where we would catch the U-bahn to take us to the start. My dad had brought a sign that he had made at home which was unbelievably thoughtful. He wanted it to be a surprise so I had to wait until I was out on course to see what was on it, and I was genuinely touched.

Many other runners were going the same way which was reassuring, although it appeared a lot of them had elected to take the S-bahn (a larger train) which made me start to worry about being late. Compounding this, one of my teammates had messaged the group to say that he had already arrived. I did pause from my anxious thought spiral to realize that by absolute chance, the second song on my playlist was U2’s Zoo Station and the train we were taking from Zoo Station was called the U2.

She's just down the line, Zoo Station
Got to make it on time, Zoo Station

I'm ready
Ready for the gridlock
I'm ready
To take it to the street

Once again, getting off the train and finding our way to our destination was made easy by the thick flow of runners all heading for the start. It was a long walk, but the amount of people still filing into the starting area made me feel a bit better. We paused in the line shuffling along to snap a picture in front of the Brandenburg Gate before it was time to part ways.

Getting from the main entrance to my starting corral was chaotic and stressful. The start is in the Tiergarten which, as previously noted, is massive. The signage wasn’t great, and I ended up walking around in a panic for a bit followed by another American woman who was in a similar state. The worst part was finding toilets. Normally, there are tons of toilets in the starting area before the corrals. For this race, however, there were only a handful with massive lines scattered around. By this point, I was in full panic thinking I would miss my start and be in the last corral which left a half hour later. This would mess up my nutrition strategy and mean I would be running as the day got hotter.

Fortunately, my friend and teammate Susan was already in our corral. She texted me to share her location and tell me that there were plenty of available bathrooms by her. This was where my whole day turned around from anxiety to excitement. After passing through the many check points that (somewhat) prevent runners from going to a different corral than the one marked on their bib, I found the rows of toilets I had been looking for and then met up with Susan. At this point, the corrals had moved up significantly, indicating that it was just about time to start.

A very serious-sounding German man came on the speakers and lead us in a pre-race chant presumably to get us hyped up. It consisted of him saying “louder!” as everyone held their hands over their head and shouted “huh!” punctuated with a clap. This repeated multiple times with the rate of claps and “louder!” increasing. It was silly and fun, which was just what I needed in that moment.

At 10:05 (the official start of our wave), they set off pyrotechnics, which was cool except as we were in the back, we didn’t start moving for another couple of minutes. We officially crossed the start at 10:15am and enjoyed the thrill of finally getting underway after so many months of anticipation. Running down the main boulevard of the Tiergarten towards the Siegessäule (Victory Column) was extremely cool. As we settled in and chatted, we were briefly joined by a woman from Wisconsin. She was aiming to run 4:15 and I hope she succeeded.

We first saw my dad between 6 and 7km and I finally got to see what was on his sign. He had put together a compilation of photos (which he had taken) from other races I had done as well as a US flag and Dashing Whippets logo. In big letters it said GO ANGELA! so I couldn’t miss it. We saw him again at 11km right before seeing Susan’s family.

It is impossible to explain how amazing it is to see people cheering for you throughout a marathon. My dad and I had planned ahead of time where he could see me so I would know where to look for him. This involved a lot of subways and getting the timing just right. In the end, we saw each other at least five times which really made all the difference. This was PhD level cheer squad support, and the way my dad was able to navigate the trains, get to each spot in time, and snap some pictures was seriously impressive.

Around 15km, Susan had to pause for a nature break, and with her permission I continued on alone. I hadn’t been listening to my playlist, so I put in my headphones and enjoyed the Berlin-themed music I had assembled. The entertainment along the course was incredible, so I found myself pausing my music constantly to enjoy it. There were a lot of drum circles, but also a good amount of rock, marching band-style music, and (my favorite) alpine horns.

My favorite spectators were a group of about six Danes who (according to their sign) were part of a ski team. One of them was wearing a Viking helmet and all of them were dressed head to toe in red and white. They brought a ton of enthusiasm and I was grateful to see them a few times.

Around half way, a guy with a very deep voice who was waving a flag I didn’t recognize gave me some encouragement. The awesome crowd support and musical entertainment continued, and I passed a band with a jazzy flair featuring a woman absolutely belting. She was wearing a Yankees hat and dancing with passing runners which looked like a lot of fun.

By 25km, I was running strong and had gotten down a good system for refilling my water bottle at the aid stations (more on that below). I had also managed to avoid slipping on the plastic cups which were scattered around the water tables. I am not sure why this marathon uses plastic instead of paper cups, and presumably there is an environmental reason. However, it’s pretty annoying because they create a hazard and are hard to drink from since they’re so stiff.

Despite that, I had arrived at the 5km section which contained approximately 50 feet of elevation. Under any other circumstances, I wouldn’t have noticed it, but after being promised a pancake-flat course, it felt like a climb. The course had wound its way out of the city center and into a scenic neighborhood with plenty of tree cover. The crowd support wasn’t quite as strong, but I remember really appreciating the elderly ladies sitting outside their homes banging pots and pans as we passed. Around 30km where the hill started to break, we were greeted by a massive group of Mexican fans who brought much needed energy after a relatively quiet few miles. I also saw my dad a couple more times, although I don’t remember exactly where.

With 10km to go, I had thoughts of picking up my pace a little, but I was feeling good and worried if I did that I would feel less good. Admittedly, this is not a strategy anyone with a competitive nature would take, but I was heading towards a pretty comfortable PR if I stayed consistent, and I wanted to enjoy the last hour of this amazing experience.

The feeling of getting towards the end of a marathon (when you are enjoying it) is exciting but also a little sad. I restarted my playlist when I hit three hours and estimated it would take me to the end, which was basically correct. One of my favorite memories of the whole race was listening to Überlin by R.E.M. (my mom’s recommendation) knowing that things were really going my way and I was going to hit a big goal. That song still makes me emotional.

I know, I know, I know what I am chasing
I know, I know, I know that this is changing me

I am flying on a star into a meteor tonight
I am flying on a star, star, star

With only a few kilometers to go, Take Me Home, Country Roads came on which helped me stay relatively relaxed given the circumstances. The last song I listened to before taking out my headphones to soak in the finish was You’ll Never Walk Alone by Gerry & the Pacemakers, which came on as I made the final turn and saw the Brandenburg Gate. This was my grandmom’s recommendation when I did a solo 28 miles during COVID lockdowns, and it has been one of the final songs on my marathon playlists ever since.

Running on the blue tangent line onto the mats under the Brandenburg Gate was incredible. It is so rare that you get to literally follow in the steps of greatness, and I knew that a few hours earlier, Eliud Kipchoge had run on the very same line to win in 2:02:42. (I had been tracking the elite field and checking in as I ran.) The year before, he had broken his own world record by clocking 2:01:09 on the same course, and it was still a few weeks before Kelvin Kiptum would shatter that time in Chicago. As I went under the Gate, I felt all the emotion of the months of preparing for this exact moment. I was ecstatic coming across the finish line with a 15 minute PR of 4:20. I would later check my official results and see that I had run almost equal splits in the first and second half, which was an accomplishment in itself.

Afterwards

Immediately after the finish, I collected my medal and was greeted by the speakers playing Sweet Caroline as well as many volunteers ushering everyone along. The finishers area was on the lawn in front of the Reichstag which was very cool. When I put my name in the lottery, I had selected the poncho option instead of bag drop, so I followed the signs (which were much more helpful than in the start area) to pick one up. A surprising number of people who didn’t have a little poncho icon on their bib tried to snag them anyway, but were consistently turned away by the volunteers.

After that, I tried to get my bearings and figure out how to meet up with my dad. I swear sometimes I have a big sign on my head that says “please, dear stranger, strike up with conversation with me,” because as I was fiddling with my phone, I sensed someone trying to talk to me. I say “sensed” because he was speaking German which I found confusing and probably said something like “what?” in my most American accent. This made him switch to English. It turned out his name was Andreas from Munich and he wasn’t all too happy with his finishing time. He was hoping to meet up for a drink later and I made it clear that regrettably I did not share that hope and redoubled my efforts to find the exit.

By this point, it was pretty clear that the fastest way for me to find my dad would be for both of us to head back to the hotel. This was because we were on opposite sides of the race course and there was no obvious way to get to across above ground. It took me awhile to eventually find a station that would take me the way I needed. Along the way, some woman asked me for directions, something I am sure she came to regret because in retrospect, I have no idea where I sent her.

Back at the hotel, my dad gave me a big hug and said he was very proud. I still don’t have enough words to thank him for coming all the way to Germany to watch me run a marathon. It will take a really long time to top the emotions of this day.

Final Thoughts and Recommendations

As we are approaching the 50th running of the Berlin Marathon, I wanted to provide some suggestions and lessons in case they come in handy.

I will start with some advice my friend Yoon gave me during my Berlin training. If this is your first time running on a course that only has kilometer markers, I highly suggest changing your running watch to metric so you can mentally prepare for that. Honestly, even if it’s not, you will have a much better idea of your splits if your watch and the course markers are aligned. Plan your splits and then convert them to minutes per kilometer. The good thing about kilometers is that they go by faster than miles. Of course the downside is that there are way more of them, but don’t worry about that.

Secondly, don’t be like me and actually take time to review the start area map before you get there. Also account for a lot of walking beforehand if you take the train to Potsdamer Platz, because you will have to go behind the Brandenburg Gate to get to the entrance. Don’t stress too much about this, just account for it when you plan out your arrival on race day. Taking the U2 was totally fine although it’s possible the SBahn might have been slightly faster. All of the trains in Berlin are good, but be sure to check the schedules in case you pick one that doesn’t run super frequently.

During the race, the nutrition and hydration options were pretty good. They gave out Maurten gels towards the end and had plenty of water, hydration mix (I think also Maurten), tea, and fruit. Although definitely not the top tier options offered in Tokyo, I remember the selection being solid. Everything at the aid stations was marked by big signs that had words and pictures. As far as I remember, the water bottle refilling stations were typically at the end of the line, but you could see the sign with a water pitcher well in advance.

I usually carry a water bottle, so my strategy was to unscrew the top as I jogged up to the table, hold out my bottle for a volunteer to refill, and then screw the top back on while jogging away (not before saying thank you, of course). This worked well for me, although hydration vests are allowed which could also be a good option if you usually wear one. I do not recommend taking the previously mentioned plastic cups if you can avoid it. If you want to dump it on your head, that’s one thing, but good luck taking a sip without walking and/or inhaling a lot of water. If you do take one, please drop it in one of the big yellow bins when you’re done instead of on the ground where anyone can slip on it. And definitely don’t be like the guy I saw who flung his over a fence into a construction site for some reason.

And finally, you may be tempted to lay low before the race, but I strongly suggest that you take some time to get out and enjoy the atmosphere. It’s pretty similar to New York before the marathon where the whole city is absolutely pumped to be hosting such an incredible race. You may even be lucky enough to spot some of the elites doing their shake outs (at a breezy 5:30/mile pace). Local track club host events and the gritty, edgy attitude of the city really shines. Berlin is an incredible place with a fraught history. Before starting your 42.195km journey though the streets, take time to learn about how they were built and rebuilt.

And most importantly, cheer on your fellow runners.

Crossing the halfway point on course was a big moment for me. Because of the slightly (maybe more than slightly…) unorthodox training cycle I had, I was very unsure how I would feel in the high teens and 20s. It’s the second half of the marathon where things can really go sideways, but usually you have some indication of that around halfway. Thanks to the frequent aid stations, I had been keeping up with hydration even without my trusty water bottle. I also had brought along some Salt Stick electrolyte tablets to have in between gels to help prevent cramping.

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I woke up on Sunday morning after a night of what I would call “airplane sleep,” where I was in and out most of the time. I usually don’t sleep well before big races, mostly because I’m always worried I’ll miss my alarm and also because I know there is a lot of work ahead.

It didn’t take me long to get ready and I slowly ate my pre-race meal of a carb drink with some caffeine (Maurten 320 if that means anything to you), a sachet of almond butter, and a brownie flavored Clif Bar (normally I have a Smooth Caffeinator Picky Bar but it has seeds so I didn’t try to bring it through Australia). I typically try to eat 90 minutes to 2 hours before I start running, but in this case I had extra time given all the protocol at the start and the relatively late gun time.

Despite not needing a lot of time to get ready, I was still late to meet up with my teammates who wisely went ahead to avoid getting caught in the notoriously long bathroom lines.

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