the half-life project

This is a celebration. And an update of sorts. I’m celebrating that after 46 years, including 15+ spent on the road with rock and rollers, folk singers, and DJs my liver is still remarkably healthy.

My liver has processed Bonnaroo and Coventry mud, Playa dust, and various other exotic elixirs, substances and pollutants from all over the world. I’ve never been a tobacco user and I’ve always been a lightweight when it comes to booze. Still, I’ve imbibed my fair share of beer, wine and liquor so I was pleasantly surprised to get a clean bill of health last summer when I was approved to be a living liver donor for Ankush, my wife’s younger brother.

What to say about Ankush? He’s the definition of an amazing human. We’ve had adventures in India, played in basketball leagues together in the City and have shared many fine meals and long discussions about the NFL, NBA and life. He is my brother and I’m so fortunate to have married into his family.

Through no fault of his own, Ankush’s liver is failing. His bile ducts keep getting infected and his doctors say that within a few years his liver will completely fail.  Ankush received this diagnosis in December of 2021 and was placed on the national transplant waiting list.

The list has around 18,000 people on it but only 6,000 livers become available each year from deceased donors.

Thanks to the miracle of modern medicine, he can skip that line and receive a liver from a healthy, living donor.  Neesha and I both immediately volunteered to be living donors when we heard the news and learned about the possibility of a living liver donation. We spent the last year going through a series of rigorous tests both locally in Seattle and in Manhattan to determine if either of us would be a good match.

One of the functions of a liver is to flush toxins out of our bodies, but it does so much more. It is also the only organ with the capacity to regenerate. Because of this, a healthy liver can be split into two parts and grow into two healthy livers. This link will do a much better job of explaining the process.

The transplant team is going to remove around half of my liver and plumb it together with Ankush’s body after removing his entire liver. Essentially my liver will regrow to the same size it was previous to the surgery and the portion of my liver that is placed inside Ankush’s body will also regrow and function properly.  Our bodies are amazing machines.

Here’s another link to explain how many tests we went through to qualify. It’s a long and deliberate process. In our case, it meant meeting over Zoom with psychologists, dietitians, general practice MDs and liver specialists as well as undergoing blood and cholesterol tests.

To be honest, in the beginning I looked at this process as a “half-life” mental and physical checkup. If I advanced through the initial mental and physical evaluation, my liver and chest would be scanned and any other unknown health issues would be discovered.

As we progressed, our test results continued to be positive. The last set of tests were done in-person in May of 2022. Ankush lives in Manhattan, so the transplant and recovery will take place there.

Neesha and I had not been back to New York together since we moved to Seattle from the Upper East Side in 2016. The weather was beautiful during our visit in May and we got to see some friends and family. It was a wonderful trip and helped us feel better about coming back to NYC for the recovery period.

We underwent more testing and an MRI to map our organs to make sure that our livers were both healthy and a good physical match for Ankush.

I don’t know the odds that both of us would be accepted as donors, but in the end, we were both determined to be good matches. The decision for me to be the donor really came down to experience. I’ve been through recovery, and Neesha and her family have taken care of me before. I know that I’m in great hands. My recovery will be much easier than what Ankush will experience. We are hoping for the best possible outcome and Neesha is a backup donor.

The timeline for my recovery means that I can’t travel for at least 6 weeks after the surgery.  We are renting a small apartment in Mid Town East to be near the hospital and Ankush’s apartment.

Neesha is taking some time off from work to care for us and will be working remotely. Her mother Benu and brother Kunal will also be in the City at different times to help, along with other family and friends. The outpouring of support has been overwhelming and we can’t thank all of you enough.

I’m also blessed to have a great team at work to help with my clients while we are gone, and the nature of my job allows me to work remotely and take it easy physically while my body heals.

For us, the hardest thing is leaving our pups home for 2 months. It would be too difficult to bring them to NYC with us and Ankush can’t be around pets while his body recovers as he will be on immunosuppressants so that his body doesn’t reject the transplanted liver.

Our friend Victor is house sitting and dog sitting and although they will miss us, our pups are going to get lots of love. Brady will be waiting for Ankush to visit when he has fully recovered.

I’m a risk taker.  Even before the bicycle accident that shattered my face, I’ve put myself in plenty of other dangerous situations.  I am truly lucky to be alive and in one piece. Ankush will say that he didn’t do anything, but he was a big part of my recovery and he was there for me. I’m happy to be there for him.

I’ve had moments of fear leading up to the transplant, and that’s totally normal.  Ankush and I are on this adventure together.  When you take calculated risks your outcome largely depends on your preparation. If you are going to risk your life, it’s also good to place it in the hands of experts. We have great doctors. From experience, I know that we have an amazing support system. So I know that we will have a good outcome.

The kindness of strangers and the support of friends and family is the reason that I’m able to donate my liver. It’s not particularly brave or noble, it’s just the thing to do. If I have good spare parts, they might as well be put to good use.

I leave tomorrow for New York and our surgery is one week away on February 7th, 2023.

We’ll keep you posted on our recovery over the next few months on this page.

Thank you for your support!

Recovery Journal

February 5th, 2023 - Central Park run!

The Day Before

February 6th, 2023

At our pre-op appointment last Thursday, my Surgeon went over my new MRI scans and we chatted about the procedure. I had to sign documents with wet ink. It reminded me of an escrow signing. He told me to enjoy the weekend, get some light exercise. “Eat whatever you want, but good to keep things simple the day before.  The main thing is don’t get Covid.”

So we stayed inside and watched movies and talked to friends and family and ate delicious take out. Ankush is chronically tired these days, but I got outside for bike rides and some running.

I wanted to run 12 miles before Tuesday. No particular reason, it’s just a nice number. I planned to do 4 miles on Saturday, Sunday and Monday but it was too chilly on Saturday to run.

Luckily on Sunday it was a balmy 37 degrees, which is perfect running weather. But first, a shot of espresso. Our local cafe is Ground Central They proudly serve La Colombe (roasted in Philadelphia) which is one of my favorite beans. Rich and full bodied flavor.

Running in NYC is a dream. Flat, with wide sidewalks and there is always a green light. If you are heading uptown and the cross walk says stop, you can always run across the street or jog over an avenue to hit a green light.

Once I got to the park, the pack of runners doing the Central Park loop swept me along. Running is my meditation. Once you are moving, thoughts and stress wash away. Pick a song and let it play a random playlist from there. Volume low so I can hear the sounds of the city and my breathing. Keep going, you are almost home.

My legs got heavy at the top of the loop but I finished the 6 miles. It’s 2.5 miles to the park so I clocked 8.5 total. I took a CitiBike home with a stop to pickup smoothies for us from Juice Generation at Grand Central. Neesha made eggs and tortillas and I washed it all down with a delicious NA Pilsner. Safety Glasses from Industrial Arts has the bitter flavor my body craved after a run. This article says NA Beer can be as good as electrolytes after a workout.

We played Mini Golf in VR and watched Wakanda Forever, pausing often to chat on the phone with family or finalize plans.

I woke up Monday with that strange apprehension that your life is gonna change the next day.

What would you do for your last day?

I’m not scared of dying. I’m worried about Ankush’s body rejecting my liver. Still. What’s your bucket list in NYC for your last day?

First, a quick run back to Central Park. My legs were WORKED from the previous days run and so it was short and sweet.  I was getting apprehensive about my diet. I didn’t want to eat a big meal before boarding the airplane, if you know what I mean. So I kept it light, I found a healthy smoothie shop and I loaded up on yogurt, alkaline water, coffee and brought Ankush a strawberry banana smoothie.

I showered when I got home and then Neesha and I went for a walk on the East River and found some great miso soup at Ramen Ishida on the Lower East Side.

Kunal and Benu are arriving tonight from Boston. I’m going to hit Little Island to watch the sunset. I’m going to take a CitiBike to get there and back. Statistically it’s probably more dangerous than the surgery is for a donor. But I want to see the sunset, just in case. Wouldn’t you?

Walking Uptown

February 6th, 2023 - (written 2/18 + 2/19)

We took our hospital “go bags” and left Ankush’s apartment building on 39th after a round of hugs with Benu, Kunal and Neesha. The doorman said, “Bye, Mr. Ankush, come home soon!”

Ankush booked us a hotel room on 3rd in the 50s, about halfway to the hospital.

It was brisk but not cold. We walked at a quick pace and made small talk. All that there was left to do was wait and try to rest for the morning. We arrived at the hotel and checked-in. Another guest was in front of us. I wondered what they were doing tomorrow. There are millions of stories in the city.

The hotel upgraded us to a top floor room and offered us large bottles of Fiji water and a snack. Our midnight curfew for eating was imminent, but we weren’t hungry. I did take a few big drinks of water.

Our plans were flexible for the morning. Maybe we’d walk to the hospital. Kunal and Neesha wanted to come for pre-op. Maybe they’d give us a ride.

We did some sleep-math and decided to accept the ride to maximize our rest time.

I texted the group, “We’re at the hotel! See you at 5:15 for a ride ;)”

Neesha’s reply came quick, “sounds good, sleep well, love you”

At 5:05 I woke to my phone ringing. Ankush was in the shower. Neesha said, “We’re early!” in a cheerful and comforting voice. I told her Ankush was in the shower and we’d be right down.

Neesha said, “Aren’t you going to shower?”

I said, “I showered last night at the apartment!”

Neesha said, “You are gonna stink”

I said, “I’ll wash my pits!”

I pulled on some fresh clothes and did a last inventory of my go bag.

A book I wouldn’t open, a water bottle I wouldn’t use and my phone gimbal tripod that would come in extremely handy. I also brought prescription sunglasses, my reading glasses, an extra long phone charger, my driver’s license and my AirPods, I wore loose fitting climbing / yoga pants, black socks, slip-on Nikes, a Dr. Dog “No Problem” skeleton shirt (seemed fitting), my favorite blue jacket and my rave green Sounders beanie.

Ankush was ready and we left the hotel room.

He said, “You ready?”

I said, “let’s do this!”

We waved at Kunal and Neesha and hopped in the car. The ride was longer than I thought it would be. I was grateful we didn’t walk. As we approached the hospital the sky turned pink. There was no street parking so we parked in the cobble stone valet turnaround.

The hospital entrance and lobby was Art Deco, with dark wood, polished floors and gold trim. An Upper East Side hospital. Ankush knew the way inside and navigated us to the Greenberg Pavilion. Soon we were ID’d and checked-in and walking to the pre-op room. Things were moving quickly now.

Last minute questions, forms to sign, clothes off, gown on. IV’s inserted into veins. Lot’s of doctors and nurses asking me If I had any questions.

“I’m ready”

We walked out together for the pre-op.  I got myself onto a table, moved myself into place and waited for the anesthesiologist to count me down, but I was already asleep.

An Ode to Nurses

February 7th - 11th. Half remembered and written 2/17-2/19.

You can have the best surgeon in the world, but unless the nurses are kind, compassionate and attentive, an extended stay in the hospital is not pleasant.

My nurses in the ICU had me up and walking the very first day after surgery. Learning how to stand-up without engaging my still-healing-and-very-tender (it hurts to burp, sneeze or even breathe deeply!) core was an adventure. For the first walk, they gave me some Toradol to ease my pain and I learned the barrel role method and how to time my breathing to match with exerting any energy. I felt hunched over. My abominable muscles were knitting together. I felt like a clenched fist. Standing felt amazing. I rolled my shoulders a few times per the nurses instructions. I noticed I was wearing a catheter as the bag was being emptied.

The Nurse had a cheery response to my half-spoken query/statement, “I have a catheter.”

“Yes, Your kidneys are working well! Now hang on tight to this IV drip stand and walk slowly with me. We are going to walk down the hallway. Let me know if you get dizzy or tired.

I said, “Where’s Ankush’s room?”

She said, “It’s at the end of the hallway, are you sure you can walk that far?”

I said, “Oh yeah. We are going to see Ankush!”

I got to his room, the door was open. Ankush was sitting up for the first time. Like me, he was practicing sitting up with his nurse. He saw me and grinned, but he gave me the “Please go away, I’m nauseous!” hand signal. My energy was fading quickly anyway, and so very slowly, I turned the IV drip stand around and carefully walked back to my room with the nurse. Back to bed, back to sleep.

Later they woke me up and asked If I wanted to move into my own room on the 7th floor. I was ready.

I met Lyndon late on Wednesday night when I got transferred from the ICU to my private room. Lyndon was the night nurse on duty and greeted me with a warm smile and assurances that I was going to get better and have a short stay on his floor.  He’s the best nurse I have ever known.

He gave me a walking tour of the floor and got me situated in the room. I was still hooked up to all of my IVs, including a Dilaudid drip

He said, “Make yourself comfortable, but get up and walk around as much as possible. That’s how you are going to go home early. Don’t get too comfortable!”

Comfortable. I wasn’t comfortable by any means, but I was pleasantly numb. About 30 hours post surgery my adrenaline was still pumping and my pain treatment was regiment was generous. Sleep, rest, walk around, take some chicken broth and jello. They were hydrating me with saline and my catheter was taking care of my piss. Toradol every  8 hours, plus the Dilaudid drip and Lidocaine patches on my shoulders.  It was up to me to practice my breathing and try to sleep as much as possible.

He also gave me a breathing exercise ball machine. The idea was to breathe slowly and deeply to rebuild my lung capacity.

“Here, practice taking a deep breath, exhaling and then breathing in slowly with this. You should be up to 2000 by tomorrow.”

I tried feebly to breathe and could only muster 250. Lyndon said, “You have some practicing to do!”

Every time I saw Lyndon or another nurse that day, I had the same question, “When’s Ankush going to come down from the ICU?”

They would always reply with the same answer, “Hopefully tomorrow.”

When I first woke up in the recovery room after the transplant, the first thing I asked the nurse was, “How is Ankush doing?”

They told me, “He is still in surgery.”

I got this response a few times before drifting back asleep. I knew my surgery was going to be shorter than his. But each time I woke up, it was a little bit later. At midnight I started to get worried. I had overhead someone talking about a liver that was coming in at 2:30am. I was sure this meant that something had gone wrong with my liver. I started to sob. The nurse touched my shoulder. “He’s going to be ok, I’ll get a family member to come give you an update.”

Ankush’s older brother Kunal came into the room. Kunal is a cardiologist. His bedside manner is also amazing.

He said, “Hey there, how are you feeling?”
I blubbered, “How’s Ankush?” And I started to sob and shake. It hurt my chest so I whimpered.

He grabbed my hand and said softly, matter of factly. “He’s still in the OR, they are going really slow, but everything is going really well.”

Just then the nurse came back in, “They are closing him up now!”

Such relief. I melted into tears and squeezed Kunal’s hand. He squeezed back and said, “It’s gonna be ok, get some rest. I’m going to try and get some rest and then go see him.”

Now a few days later, I knew I was still ahead of him on the recovery timeline, but I was hoping to see him out of the ICU on the 7th floor with me.  Later that night, my wish came true. I was exhausted and uncomfortable, but nothing was going to keep me from seeing him when he arrived. So when he was wheeled down and situated in his own room, I walked down the hall to his room.  He was sitting up, eating some jello. There was a smile for me when I came in, and he said, “Thank you!” My adrenaline surged, “Bro we are doing it!! Great work to get down here. How are you feeling?”

We swapped some pain stories and an unspoken, knowing look of acknowledgment that we’d both just reached an important waypoint on our recovery journey.

I told him about my vision of waking up from anesthesia. “It was just like the movie Soul. I was out of my body. I had the choice to be a blue or a yellow ball. I don’t remember what I chose. And then I bounced around a room, into a machine and floated out of the sky down into the hospital. I could hear them talking to me, telling me to wake up. I didn’t open my eyes for a long time. But I could hear everything as I was being moved around. And then I opened my eyes.”

He thanked me again and I excused myself. My energy was ebbing again. I got back to the room, transferred from standing to laying down in my bed and Lyndon came in to tuck me in, give me meds and check my vitals.  We were making progress.

Walking Towards Recovery

Friday, February 10th, 2023

Good news, all my IVs(3!) were pulled today.

My catheter is out and my drain bag (sticking out of my right side) showed no bile leaks from liver incisions / cauterizations so they pulled that as well.

I should be out tomorrow and home recovering.

I feel like a truck hit me and the bowel restart / pain meds reduction is as bad as you can imagine but another day or so and my tummy health should hopefully be normal.

I have 6 holes in my chest / gut and a 6 inch incision below my belly button but I’m holding together good. The scan shows my liver is healthy. I’m tired as hell.

The best good news of all is that all signs continue to show Ankush’s body is accepting my liver and all his bad liver function levels have improved significantly. My lil baby liver in his body and is chugging along like a new engine should, and that’s amazing. He’s as beat up as me but he also feels better than he previously did at the same time. His Doc just said he might be able to be released MONDAY. Which is way ahead of schedule. Neesha is slightly worried to potentially have 2 adult fofo’s running around dragging her on hikes.

February 18th, 2023 - Return of the Prince

February 19th, 2023 - Dr. Neesha Tandon

February 21st, 2023 - Daily Walks to the East River!

February 24th, 2023 - Ankush had a successful follow up today! His medical team said he was ahead of his recovery schedule and that his blood work continues to look good. I took advantage of the weather to take my longest solo walk since the surgery. I walked down to SoHo to check out my friend Harley’s exhibit at the Georges Bergès Gallery. Along the way I saw plenty of characters, architecture and dogs that you can only experience in NYC. It’s great to be here for recovery. 6 miles was the perfect distance. I came home and had a wonderful dinner of pesto pasta with chicken prepared by Benu, along with warm ginger tea.

February 25th - We walked uptown to Bergdorf Goodman to find Michelle Farro’s artwork on display! She’s the incredible artist who designed the logo for my Real Estate business.

February 26th - Carrying Groceries, administering medicine. Neesha is our superhero.

February 27th - March 8th. Day and Night Walks. East to West and everywhere in between.

One Month since surgery…

March 7th, 2023

I feel better every day. It’s easier to move, it doesn’t hurt to sneeze or burp. Walking feels GREAT. Movement feels amazing.

When I first came home from the hospital, I was hunched over and every sneeze felt like my intestines were going to burst out of my tummy, like a little alien. I was pretty sure I would lose a few inches of height from the lingering slouch.

Now I can stretch, I can do squats and lunges (very carefully) and I can carry a (very light) backpack. I can also walk to the grocery store or bodega to get daily supplies as long as they are under 10 pounds.

I still have sharpie “temporary tattoos” and medical tape over my camera holes and tummy incision and I still wear a dressing over my drain wound. They are healing, the ink will fade and the strips will eventually fall off.  I’m taking it easy and I’m not going to the beach anytime soon, or otherwise taking my shirt off in public.  But I will be. I’m gonna be so body positive this summer, “Check out my scars, do you want to hear a cool story?” Because the human body is freaking amazing.

I still can’t get over the fact that our livers regenerate, that 1/3rd of my liver (the left lobe) was removed and is functioning and growing inside Ankush.  Do livers have thoughts? Are they sentient?

In the past when I’ve been sick and delirious, my body fatigued from fighting off infection I’ve often imagined my blood cells as tiny soldiers. Single minded, with one purpose. Life. Our bodies operate like a team. The brain is the pilot, nerves communicate instructions, the heart is the engine, the lungs provide fuel in the form of oxygen to our blood cells, blood carries this energy throughout the body, the liver processes our blood, breaks down nutrients and regulates everything. We are self healing. The most perfect machine ever built.

My liver is growing back to full size, which takes extra energy. So I get tired. Sometimes without warning. Usually after I eat. I need to be mindful of my diet while I recover. My diaphragm is pushed against my intestines while the liver grows back, so I’m susceptible to heart burn.  I’ve never really had heart burn before. It’s no fun, a pressure you can’t quite relieve with a burp. Tomatoes, garlic and onions are instigators. At home I probably put tomatoes and onions in everything I cook and it’s in all my favorite dishes. So it’s been an adjustment, temporarily, to seek out meals without these ingredients.

I wake up for coffee and cereal in bed, followed by some stretching and dancing and then a shower.  Next is the Mini Crossword, a check-in on emails and some writing. After that it’s time for lunch. Neesha and I are staying in an AirBnB next door to Ankush’s building and we walk over for lunch every day. Benu is healing me with home cooked food.

After lunch it’s time for a walk. The three of us walk down to the East River and then back to the apartment. It’s about a mile and a half round trip. I’m further along in recovery then Ankush, so I go on a longer walk after we get back. I usually have a direction in mind for my walk and then I’ll go where the city takes me.

I’ll listen for a musical cue and then dive in to the days soundtrack. A few days ago the direction was West and when I got to the Hudson River, a man was sitting on a bench listening to Otis Redding. So I fired up some Otis and floated back East to our apartment.

Dinner is rotated between takeout or a home-cooked meal.  We’re avoiding crowded places like restaurants so that we don’t get sick. Covid would be really bad for Ankush right now.

Neesha is taking amazing care of both me and Ankush. We have a great family dynamic and we take turns picking out movies in the evenings. They are patient and sit through my artsy choices, like Babylon or Tár.  Neesha counters my programming with rom-coms like Shotgun Wedding. If we’re not sure what to watch, we can always settle on a Marvel film or an episode of Friends.

Last week a scan revealed that a blood clot was lingering in Ankush’s chest so he had to go back to the hospital to have it drained and receive another round of antibiotics to combat a possible infection. Blood clots and infections are a common occurrence with transplant recipients and it’s comforting to know that he’s receiving the best possible care.  It will take at least a week for the antibiotics treatment to run it’s course and ensure that the infection is gone. We’ve been visiting him daily to bring him food and fresh clothes. Ankush also had us bring in a big order of cupcakes and banana pudding from Magnolia Bakery for all the nurses and PAs.  He’s so thankful for the excellent care they are providing.

We’ve also met a few other transplant recipients at the hospital, it’s so uplifting to chat with other people going through similar situations.

We’re hopeful that Ankush will come home this weekend, but we’re also being very patient. We want him to continue his recovery at home, but we don’t want him to come home and have to go back to the hospital.

A few nights ago I was restless after visiting Ankush at the hospital and so I walked to Times Square. My friend Oja made me a playlist of songs about cities. I was a few blocks from 52nd and Broadway when Olympia, WA by the great punk band Rancid popped up on the playlist. I walked home via 53rd and 3rd because of the Ramones. Music Heals.

Walking downtown on 3rd, I passed the Marriott and then like weird deja vu, a recognition of where I was - the hotel that Ankush and I had stayed in the night before the surgery. Exactly a month earlier. A month! There’s no way it’s been that long. But it has. Time is moving differently.  It’s harder to measure progress that you feel, but can’t see.

August 7th, 2023 (6 month Anniversary)

There’s another chapter coming. An epilogue of sorts! But in the meantime, here we all are at Kunal’s home in Portland, ME celebrating life, love and lobster.

November 7th, 2023 (9 month Anniversary)

The New York City Marathon is special!

Our team met at the Staten Island ferry to ride to the starting line together. One of the many unique things about this marathon is that EVERYONE needs to take some form of public transportation to the starting line.

The runners leave in waves, based on your estimated finishing time. We had some first-time marathoners in our group so we all started in the last wave so we could take some pictures together at the Bridge.

After the starting gun, I got separated from the group, but there were Fifty thousand of us running together, so you are never alone.

I was careful not to burn too much energy on the bridge and descended into Brooklyn.

I realized that I was going to need to take a piss break, which I did at mile 4. After that, I was determined to make up a little bit of lost time and increased my pace. Brooklyn was bumping with energy.

The roads were crowded with runners and fans offering beers, waving signs and shouting encouragement.

I shifted into cruising mode and felt fantastic as I entered Queens and reached the halfway mark in 2 hours, slightly ahead of my 4.5 hour goal.

I continued to pass other runners on the bridge going into Manhattan.

Entering Manhattan the miles remaining get smaller and the wall of sound of the fans cheering on 2nd Avenue is deafening.

I knew the route, but I didn’t realize until I was running up 2nd Avenue that I was on the same route I had walked to visit the hospital every day to see Ankush while he was recovering.

All of the emotions of the past year bubbled up and I started to cry. My energy level surged. I ran my 2nd fastest mile of the day.

Neesha was waiting at Mile 18 with some friends and family. I saw them and waved. I wanted to stop but I also felt that if I stopped, my body would cramp, so Neesha got a high 5 and an unintelligible scream that meant “I love you” as I ran by.

A few blocks later our cousin Ashmi and her daughter Mira saw me and ran a bock alongside me shouting encouragement.

At this point in the marathon, physical fatigue sets in. More and more runners were walking and cramping up.

Another bridge and a slight hill into the Bronx. More music, more crowds, more encouragement.

I took a slice of orange from a stranger, a piece of banana from someone else. I was drinking cups of water and gatorade every mile at the hydration stations.

Back into Manhattan to what’s described as the hardest mile, a gradual hill on 5th Ave. Someone yelled, “Keep going! Use your arms and shoulders!”

Exerting effort to weave through runners, I felt my hamstring begin to cramp and so I downshifted and clutched my left leg as I continued running, massaging the muscle with my fingers.

I took some more gatorade for the salt and ate my last packet of Gu. My hamstring relaxed and I knew my body was going to take me the distance. It’s a mind game now. We’re so close.

I use music for training runs. You don’t really need it for NYC, but it helped me finish. Meditation to forget the pain. Breathe. Just a 5k to go. You are in the Park now. There’s the finish line. You can do it.

I crossed the finish line in 4:11:56!

My legs felt like cement. I had exerted every ounce of energy. I was too tired to be excited about hitting my goal. I shuffled along to accept my medal for finishing and fished a bottle of water out of the post race goodie bag. I was soooo thirsty. I pounded the water and wrapped the orange shawl around shoulders.  This is the stage where you tell yourself, “this is my last marathon!”

It took another mile of walking before I was able to get to Neesha, Ankush, Ashmi, Mira and our other friends and by that point, I was too sore to even get my shoes off.  I leaned on Ankush and Neesha swapped out my shoes, socks and gave me some sweats and a sweatshirt to wear.

New Yorkers are famously standoffish, but Marathon day is different. Kindness from strangers is the order of the day and the medal elicits an earnest “Congratulations” from everyone you see. The streets are full. The Marathon is a holiday and the City continues partying into the night. We stopped for pizza slices and walked for a bit before getting into a cab home.

At home, high 5’s from the doorman, more pizza and then an ice bath > hot shower > recovery socks and stretches > water > more food, some Tylenol and then bed.

Happy 26.2!