It can feel like everyone is running a marathon these days. Thousands sign up to conquer 26.2 every year, and the phenomenon isn't slowing down anytime soon. With the 50th anniversary of the New York City Marathon approaching on Nov. 1, all eyes are on the running world
once again. But not every runner is out there for the Strava stats alone. Often, there's a deeper purpose behind the miles.
Ahead, three runners from New York Road Runners Team Inspire share their purpose for showing up to the starting line.
For some, it's about overcoming physical barriers.
It's been a long road to the marathon for Nicole Ver Kuilen, 35. After being diagnosed with bone cancer at 8 years old, she underwent a life-saving leg amputation at 10. While she received a prosthesis for walking, her insurance didn't cover one for running or other physical activity.
"It was a very challenging time in my life," she tells Popsugar. "The assumption at the time was, 'If you're a person with a disability, that means you're not going to be an athlete anymore.' But really, I didn't have the tools I needed."
When training for her first half marathon years later, it was clear her prosthesis was holding her back. "I was running on something that wasn't built to withstand that energy," she says. She developed back pain from a pelvic torsion and was told to stop running altogether — but she pushed forth.
After a decade of making do with inadequate equipment, she spent a year (and 26 appointments) pushing for a running prosthesis. Hitting a breaking point, she quit her job and started a 1,500-mile triathlon down the Pacific Coast. "It was at the end of that journey that I got noticed by a charity, and they ended up donating my first-ever running prosthesis to me," she says.
She'll never forget the moment she put it on. "It felt like I finally had my leg back," she says. "It was incredible to feel that energy return again."
The new prosthesis was a victory, but it also illuminated the work that remained. Many people with disabilities still can't run because of limited insurance coverage. And Ver Kuilen believes no one should have to do a triathlon in order to receive "access to basic physical activity." Subsequently, Ver Kuilen has advocated through her non-profit, Forrest Stump, to push legislation for insurance companies to cover athletic prosthetics nationwide.
As she gears up for the NYC Marathon, her goal is to educate and inspire others to take action. "When people see someone like myself running a race with a disability or prosthesis, oftentimes, they say, 'You inspire me,' and it's very motivating," she says, "but part of me wishes they also knew how hard it was to even get there."
Some runners race to overcome mental hurdles.
For Smita Rajgopal, 45, the hardest obstacle isn't visible. "I'm an entrepreneur, an aerial circus artist, I'm about to run my fourth NYC Marathon, and I also live with bipolar disorder," Rajgopal tells PS. "All of those things are part of my life, and it's important to see them together."
Rajgopal began the year not knowing if training for the marathon was even a possibility after she was hospitalized following a psychiatric episode. She compares the experience to "hitting a wall," like the latter miles of a marathon. "I had been fine for about five years, living my life as normally as possible — but then, I had an episode at the end of last year," she says. "I knew I was getting ready to run the marathon this year, and immediately, I thought, 'That's not going to happen.'"
But she found a way, one step at a time. "There's something very grounding about taking a huge goal and working toward it one day, one run, one mile at a time," Rajgopal says.
With her run, Rajgopal is on a mission to break the stigma surrounding bipolar disorder. "My life looks pretty much like anyone else's life in the sense that I have highs, lows, good days, and bad days, and some might be worse than others." But running reminds her that her story isn't over. "It's like the wall: You try to push past it, and eventually, you get past it. It's important to remind myself that it's not the end."
Sometimes, running is part of a larger movement.
Some runners carry the weight of a story beyond their own. For Shaden Awad, 27, that story starts with family. "I'm the child of Palestinian refugees, which is a core part of my identity," she says. "They were both born in a refugee camp, and both are disabled. I'm also running the marathon with my older brother this year."
Awad began running in middle school, and was the captain of her high school cross country team. "I think it was honestly a mental health thing, and the physical aspect was a byproduct," she says. After moving to Los Angeles to attend college, Awad became immersed in activism and social justice efforts. Even while working a job at Microsoft post-graduation, she founded an organization for Palestinians and allies, and eventually left the company to launch her own engineering studio, QUWA Labs.
But balancing it all took a toll, and running has helped her protect her wellbeing. "With activism there's constant stress and anxiety," she says, "at some point, you have to give your brain a break." Running also keeps her grounded: "There's a level of delusion, or turning your brain off for a couple of minutes just so you can survive and stay committed to the cause."
Running a marathon, in particular, carries additional significance: "26.2 miles is longer than the length of Gaza, which is something people don't even think about." Awad says, "It feels remiss not to mention that fact, and how I'm able to live and go run outside. In Gaza, that's not the case." Running, she says, is inherently political. "I find it hard to separate the two, and it feels wrong to even try to."
Ahead of Sunday's race, Awad is keeping in mind a Palestinian proverb about a man who plants olive trees so that future generations can enjoy them. "Showing up to the start line, I'm showing up for myself," she says, "but it's also an investment in planting for the future and showing up for those after me."
Tianna Soto is a wellness writer and editor based in New York City. She holds an MA in clinical psychology in education from Columbia University.
