There were many unsuccessful attempts to stop smoking. I just didn't seem to have the will power, the confidence, the strength to kick the habit. Living in New York City at the time, I watched joggers in Central Park with a lump in my throat. Running seemed like something I would never be able to do. These runners seemed to possess such freedom, something missing from my life as I lay prisoner to the cigarettes and habits I could not seem to overcome.

In my early twenties, not only was I struggling with the addiction to cigarettes, but I was also struggling with what to do with my life. I had a couple of bartending and secretarial jobs but with nothing more than an Associate's degree, it didn't seem likely a big career lay before me. Feeling lost, and often confused, an Aunt of mine suggested exploring the field of Physical Therapy. Her friend had just completed his degree. He liked the work and jobs seemed plentiful. I knew nothing about physical therapy. As I began to investigate the possibility, I was, little by little, taking the steps that would change the course of my life forever.

I went back to school to meet the academic requirements. I started volunteering at different hospitals and facilities to get a feel for the work. Once I decided on the path, my commitment had been made. Yet I felt hypocritical. How could I step into this field of health and wellness and be a smoker? How could I inspire others to take care of their bodies when I was sucking down cigarettes like candy?

Running was my way out. So I started, slowly and painfully. I didn't quit right away. When I first started running I was still smoking. The first thing I did when I finished a run was light up. This went on for weeks, a little running, a lot of smoking. Finally the moment of truth arrived. This conflict of running and smoking was living in my body and mind. I could not do both. A choice had to be made.

I chose running.

Quitting was still hard. And my first real success at quitting didn't put the habit behind me completely just yet. I applied to Physical Therapy schools and didn't get in the first year. After the initial rejections there was a ray of hope. I made the waiting list at Stony Brook University on Long Island. Even though I did not get in that first year I was more determined than ever to reapply. I had invested everything in this decision to be a physical therapist, including my health. So I retook classes and upped my efforts.

I was accepted to Stony Brook University the second time around. The summer before university started, I lived on Fire Island cleaning houses. I was running every day on the beach and was up to 6 miles. I felt so strong. I even placed second overall for women in a 10K race at the end of the summer.

My dirty secret was I had started smoking again. I was so embarrassed. Here I was running, this supposed health nut now. Everyone I knew thought I kicked the habit but I would sneak back to the house from the beach to smoke a cigarette. I was so afraid of all the changes and uncertainty before me; moving to Stony Brook, starting school, being a bit older than most students, feeling insecure about my capabilities, that the cigarettes provided a comfort, a solace that only a smoker, or addict could understand. What would people think of me if they really knew how scared and insecure I was? I was so afraid of appearing weak.

There were a number of stops and starts before completely leaving cigarettes behind me and running the New York City Marathon helped me to never look back.

I decided to run the marathon in February of 1990.

The start of my training in February, until the actual race in November, took nine months. This period of gestation saw myself emerge from one who felt powerless in their addiction to cigarettes to one who had the power to do anything.

One of the biggest obstacles to training for the marathon was overcoming the resistance of my own mind. Of course the body needs conditioning to ready it for 26 miles but it was my mind that wanted to stop well before my body. I can't do this anymore?enough?.it hurts?.I'm tired. Overcoming the resistance of my mind through training for the marathon has served me in so many aspects of my life.

Because no matter what we set out to do in life our mind will always get in the way of our growth and development. Our mind wants us to stay the way we are. Our mind wants us to feel safe and secure. There is nothing wrong with feeling safe and secure and certainly we need to feel safe and secure within our self to be able to venture into new territories.

But when we are attached to safety and security we become paralyzed to rise beyond the limitations that safety and security imposes on our life.

We need to develop our will in order to rise above the habits that limit us. For me running has been one of the most beneficial practices I have embarked on in my life and the New York City Marathon is one of its high points.

There were moments that felt like I couldn't go on. Heading over the 59th Street Bridge on to 1st Avenue in Manhattan felt like climbing Mount Everest. You don't realize how much of a climb a bridge is until you have run 15 miles to get there.

There were moments of inspiration. The streets of Brooklyn were full of crowds and music. Approaching 8 miles I heard the theme from Rocky playing. My heart pumped harder, my stride was stronger, I felt the power of running.

There were emotional moments. The race starts in Staten Island, 25,000 people running over the Verranzano Bridge. You can actually feel the bridge vibrating under your feet from the power generated by so many runners. At this point it is just you and the rest of the runners, each in their own race, with you yet against you in some way.

Heading into Bay Ridge Brooklyn the streets were so thick with people cheering, yelling and high fiving, it was incredible. I felt this overwhelming outpouring of love and support, especially in contrast to the relative silence of the bridge. I couldn't hold back the tears. I was running in a sea of love and it felt beautiful.

There were moments of enlightenment. At twenty three miles, heading into Central Park for the last time, I knew I would finish the race but I had to stop for water before I could go any further. I suppose it is what people have called the wall. This was my first stop in the race. I had been taking water, pouring it into my body while still in motion. This time I had to stop before I could go any further. I drank water and started running again.

Shortly after that I saw my mother, brothers, sisters and their respective spouses. They were holding a banner high that read? KAREN, YOU DID IT! I still had three miles to go which at that point felt like it could have been another twenty-three. I didn't want to disappoint them.

At twenty-four miles I went to a place I had never been to before. It was if everything within me; body, mind, heart and soul, shifted to some other inner gear. I was running?.and it was effortless! EFFORTLESS! I had been running for three and a half hours now and I felt like I could have gone on forever. I was light, floating, higher than any substance has ever taken me. I rode that high for weeks.

And throughout the whole race I felt the love and support of my friends and family, cheering me on, in every borough, screaming for me as if I were some running star.

Those memories live within me forever. The accomplishment of running 26 miles is a reservoir of inspiration for me even 17 years later.

And I am still running, for over twenty years now. Although I never ran another marathon that moment still lives in me with inspiration and awe.

At 46 years old, there is no desire to run 26 miles again; at least not in one shot. I am grateful my body is still able to run, on the beach, in the woods, on the streets, in my travels. To be able to spend time outdoors, to breathe in fresh air and clear my mind serves me in all aspects of my life and is the blessing that running brings to my life.

I am grateful for the vehicle of my body that keeps on running.

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