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I ran the Boston Marathon 8 months after I gave birth to my first child. It was my comeback race.

Jan 2, 2023, 20:57 IST
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Gabrielle Russon running the Boston Marathon.Credit: B.A.A./MarathonFoto
  • I'd been a regular runner ever since my 20s. It gave me time to think and helped me relax.
  • But during my pregnancy, my runs had slowed to walks, and after my son was born, I missed it.
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I'd finally gotten some alone time as a new mom. I laced up my running shoes and picked out my perfect playlist. I found my rhythm as my feet hit the pavement, my adrenaline kicking in as I told myself, "This is my comeback."

Eight months earlier, I gave birth to my son, Boomer. I had been a burnt-out journalist but the pandemic made everyone do unexpected things, so I quit my job at the newspaper. I was tired of deadlines, furloughs, and the never-ending fear of layoffs. I was ready to go on a different sort of adventure — I wanted to become a mom, and decided to start a family.

I'd been an avid runner for years, but pregnancy changed things

Prior to giving birth, I had been a runner since my 20s. Running was free therapy. I ran to forget about unfaithful boyfriends and demanding editors and a bank account that always seemed to be trending in the wrong direction. Being outside and running with a good playlist brought me a peace I couldn't find anywhere else. The harder my feet worked, the more I relaxed.

During my pregnancy, I ran early into my second trimester and then I slowed to a walk when it felt too uncomfortable to go fast. Even the day my water broke, I had power-walked five miles around my neighborhood. As long as I was in motion, I was happy, although I daydreamed about my running comeback and crossing the finish line at my next marathon.

Now, as a new mom in her late 30s, I was picking running back up to prove to myself I was still the old me.

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I started running again

After a relatively complication-free birth, I started running again six weeks postpartum with my doctor's blessing. My first attempt was only down my street and back — a mile — but the trek felt endless. My legs were weak as I shuffled down the sidewalk and my old, shabby Target sports bra wasn't doing the trick. I felt defeated. The old me had never felt so far away. Running felt like a chore, like the joy had been sucked out of me.

However, I kept going. I went out for a run again. And again. A few times a week, I laced up my shoes and slowly, my one mile route evolved into a 5K. I also invested in a better sports bra that gave me the support I needed.

Even so, I still felt like a zombie at home. My son wasn't sleeping through the night, and the freelance writing assignments I was picking up were exhausting all my extra energy. But something happened by the time I had been running several weeks postpartum. My hormonal, postpartum anxiety-ridden brain was quiet and at peace the longer my feet pounded the pavement. Gone were the churning debates in my head over whether I was a good mom and if my house would ever be clean again. Running just let me be.

A half marathon led to a marathon, and the rest is history

I had signed up for the half marathon I normally ran every Thanksgiving two months before my son was born as a motivation to prioritize exercise postpartum. When the time came to run and I crossed the finish line, I felt like a champion wearing my participant's medal. Maybe it was the runner's high, but I felt ready to attempt a 26.2-mile. I signed up for my first post-baby marathon in January 2022. I had less than four months to prepare.

My long runs grew longer every Sunday. My body felt strong. In the brisk Florida winter, I trained up to 19 miles at a time. It felt good to be alone with AC/DC and Kesha playing in my ear while my husband watched our sleeping baby at home.

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Gabrielle Russon after running the Boston Marathon.Credit: B.A.A./MarathonFoto

On my refrigerator, I recorded every workout on a piece of paper, tallying up every easy run or every long run that sometimes took me more than four hours to finish. It put everything in perspective, how far I had gone and how hard I worked. Eight months after giving birth, I felt ready for my comeback race. And I had chosen arguably the greatest race of them all: The Boston Marathon.

Before the race, I FaceTimed my son who was back in Florida with my husband. I pumped in the private lactation tent just before the start line. Then I was off.

I knew I was in trouble early on. The rolling hills outside Boston felt like mountains for someone from flat Florida. But I also couldn't stop smiling. It felt like being in the Tour de France, the streets packed with enthusiastic crowds.

I felt the camaraderie from other female athletes who read the back of my shirt, which said "First Marathon Post-baby!"

While we ran, they congratulated me and shared their own stories. I heard from one woman who told me she just discovered she was pregnant, and another who lamented about the same postpartum anxiety I felt. We laughed about how as first-time moms, we could easily cancel date nights with our husbands but our long runs were sacred.

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The marathon route felt so long, and then suddenly, it was over. My finish time was just a number; what mattered more to me was the journey.

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