Stepping off the plane and into a city I never thought I'd run in, I was filled with anticipation. Months of training had led up to this marathon, a personal milestone I had set for myself, but little did I know that the journey would be far more than a race; it would be a reminder of resilience, community, and what it truly means to show up for yourself. Every Woman's Marathon was here, and there was no turning back, even if I wanted to.
The sun hadn't yet risen over Savannah when I found myself among thousands of women, all of us buzzing with nervous energy. As Whitney Houston's voice soared through the speakers, followed by Beyoncé, Natasha Bedingfield, Nina Sky, and Rihanna, I felt tears welling up in my eyes. This wasn't just pre-race jitters; this was something deeper. The race organizers held a moment of silence for women who had lost their lives to violence while running, a sobering reminder of why spaces like this matter so much.
Community is EVERYTHING!
From the very start, the marathon wasn’t just a solo act. I was surrounded by a mosaic of runners, each chasing something deeply personal. I was one person in a sea of women, inspired by something inside of them – a fire that I’m so humbled to feel the warmth of.
The energy was electric, and I felt at home among the crowd of determined souls. When I experienced an unexpected asthma flare at mile 11, a stranger’s hand was there, helping me through it. I’ll explain later what triggered that. For now, we will keep focusing on community.
To the woman blasting salsa music (Hector Lavoe)? ¡WEPA! Your music brought joy to my stride, reminding me of the power of little celebrations along the way!
Then came Ann. The universe sends precisely what and who you need. For me, it came in the form of a woman with long, beautiful braids who had perfected her run-walk strategy. Ann pulled me through that final mile, reminding me that in moments of struggle, we’re stronger together. As we approached the finish line together, her warm smile and steady presence carried me through.
Of course, I wasn’t quite as eloquent because “We fucking did this!” was the first thing I blurted out when we crossed. Whoops! As I looked around after the race, I saw that there was Katrine Switzer, a true trailblazer for women runners. I couldn’t snag a selfie because everyone else wanted to, but I caught her eye, waved, and she smiled back, giving me a thumbs up. I called out, “Thank you for paving the way!” with all the gratitude in my heart.
A community of runners and cheering crowds took over the historic city of Savannah as theirs for the weekend. Between my husband cheering me on every few miles during the first half, strangers yelling my name, and my girlfriends yelling “Jess” and “Yerrr”, I am so thankful to have been welcomed and nurtured during this.
Your ‘WHY’ Matters
This marathon was for every girl who was told she couldn’t, for every woman I’ve supported in my therapy work, and, most importantly, for me. Training meant countless early mornings and solo miles; each run was a promise to me that I deserved to invest this time and care. We lose sight of ourselves when we put others before us.
Those solo runs? They were more than training; they were healing moments. I ran for the girl who needed to prove she was enough. I ran for every woman who fights to carve out time to prioritize herself amidst countless demands. My ‘why’ kept me moving when my lungs wanted to quit, whispering that sometimes the greatest gift we can give ourselves is showing up.
And you know what? I showed the hell up!
Trust the Training
I’ll admit it: I went out too fast – rookie mistake! The adrenaline kicked in, and suddenly, I was pacing at a ten-minute mile with a grin plastered across my face. I was good at this pace for a good eleven miles. I felt strong! But then reality hit- my lungs burned, and the speed cost me. I slowed down, embraced the rhythm of my breath, and decided to continue having fun even if I had to walk/run. If I didn’t care for myself…it would be for nothing. I remembered my training and went for it.
What surprised me most was how joy found me when I let go of my expectations. I took selfies with my husband, friends, my favorite podcaster, high-fived kids, and celebrated with countless spectators who shouted my name (putting your name on your shirt is an absolute clutch!). Sometimes, the best race strategy is to have fun and let the miles pass as they may.
The finish line wasn’t just a mark of distance—it was a celebration of every step that got me there. I saw the beautiful medals gleaming in the sun and felt my heart smile. Ann and I hugged each other before sharing contact information. I bowed my head, and a sweet volunteer placed the medal around my neck. We hugged tightly, the joy of the moment overwhelming. Surprisingly, I didn’t cry despite being such a Llorona (crier).
Meeting Jose at the end of the finish line, I was wrapped in an embrace of pride and warmth. “You did it!” he said. I laughed, telling him about how much fun it was, even with my quick start and asthma moment. The truth? I sometimes forgot it was a full marathon because the journey was full of exhilaration. As in life and training, one step, one breath, and one unforgettable experience at a time.
Representation Matters
Crossing the finish line wrapped in my Puerto Rican flag was a moment of pure orgullo (pride) as cheers of WEPA and BORICUA filled the air. Along the course, I saw women of every shade, shape, and background crushing it. It was a reminder of why these spaces matter so much. For me, for others, and for the generations who will follow. Representation in these spaces isn’t just important; it’s powerful.
It says: You belong here. You deserve this.
As we’re walking toward the festivities, ladies are congratulating each other. Family and friends look so proud. Inside the festival, a woman yells SALINAS! To my surprise, I forgot I still had my cape on. I decided to do the SOTO shuffle (Yankee fans know)! I tried, emphasis on tried. It didn’t look great, but I could still do that after a marathon; maybe the adrenaline was stronger than I thought! But I felt seen! Latinidad!
Show up! Take up space! Be yourself!
To every girl and woman who thinks she can’t: YOU CAN. Your pace doesn’t matter. Your shape doesn’t matter. What matters is showing up for yourself for every step you take toward the life you want to create. So, lace up, find your rhythm, and run your race-whatever that means to you—one step at a time.
To all the strong, capable women out there: keep pushing, keep believing, and keep showing up — for yourself, and for all the lives you touch. What I ask for kindly is for you to listen to world-known writer and poet Amanda Gorman’s spoken poem … it left tears in my eyes and made me so proud to say “Yes” to this opportunity.
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