I’ve been thinking about this question recently — what makes you feel alive?
Everyone’s answer is different. But I think it’s a great compass for how we should each spend our time. How we spend our days is how we spend our lives, and the more days we feel alive the more meaningful our lives become.
I have a note in my Apple Notes titled “It makes me feel alive”. It’s my running list of experiences that make me feel alive.
I ran the New York City Marathon a few weeks ago, and it was the most alive I’ve felt in a long time. It’s one thing to do something that makes you feel alive, and it’s a whole other feeling to do it alongside thousands of fellow runners and cheering spectators that make the city come alive. As an amateur hobby jogger, it might be the closest I’ll ever get to feeling what a professional athlete feels in their home stadium.
I decided I wanted to experience running the marathon after cheering on my girlfriend Jenn at the 2023 NYC Marathon. The energy was contagious, and it was inspiring to see her put in the work required to do a hard thing.
Feeling alive takes work. Sometimes the work is painful. In What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, Murakami describes what we get in the process of overcoming pain:
I love this line “awakening to an awareness of the fluidity within action itself” in how it so accurately describes the feeling of presence I get during active sports.
The months of training for the marathon taught me to be more present with my body and surroundings. I started to pay attention to my heart rate. I used to treat 3 mile runs as a masochist cardio workout to burn calories, going out fast and looking at my pace far too often. Now I appreciate the joy of slow and easy zone 2 runs.
I learned the art of the long run; how being patient for the first 2 miles to ease my body into the act of running pays dividends at mile 13, how important that quick stop at the water fountain along the Hudson River Greenway before I feel thirsty is, how taking those Maurten gels replenish glycogen to keep me going hours in (and give me placebo knowing that pro runners also use it).
I rediscovered New York on foot, feeling more connected to each neighborhood’s unique slice of the city. My first 20 mile training run took me on a tour of Brooklyn — from the awe-inspiring skyline views on the Greenpoint waterfront to the industrial shipping containers of the Navy Yard, to the refreshing greenery on the trails of Prospect Park, through the mysterious aromas of the Gowanus Canal, to the edge of the world at the esplanade in Red Hook, and finally back to the bustle of tourists in Dumbo. It’s easy to forget how special living in New York City is. A long run and attention to the changing of the neighborhoods is the best reminder.
I became hyperaware of the heat and humidity of the blistering New York City summer. That one cooler, low humidity day in NYC summer feels like gift from the running gods. I remember one morning, a (faster) runner came up behind me and said “isn’t this humidity amazing?”. I replied “amazing”, and smiled for the next few minutes on a high from that rare NYC stranger interaction.
16 weeks of training led me to marathon day. My friend Daniel gave me two tips: “raw dog no music until mile 20, and smile”. I had only one goal for myself: to have fun and smile at mile 20. The early morning hours spent waiting at Fort Wadsworth on Staten Island had a special Olympic Village like aura. The first mile running up the Verrazano bridge felt like bliss — no music, no crowds, only the sound of running shoes hitting the asphalt. Half a mile in, I noticed that I was going too fast out of excitement. I remembered my learnings on being patient and slowed myself down to an almost painfully slow pace.
The run took on its full color once I stepped into Brooklyn. What makes the NYC marathon so special is the people — the strangers cheering your name, the real life memes on posters people hold up, the friends and family who are running their own race around the city to see you. In Sunset Park, I stopped to take a picture and compliment a particularly well done brat-themed sign that said “runner”. I smiled, and the 10 second interaction gave me renewed energy for the next 5 minutes.
Each time I saw a friend felt like a Mario Kart Bullet Bill boost. Jenn, Helen, Will, Aakash in Williamsburg, Brendan and Kathryn in LIC, Connor and Haley on 78th St, Rachel and Kat on 85th, Molly in Central Park, Daniel and Carrie with amazing signs that I somehow missed — thank you for the extra energy.
I felt great throughout the run. I knew what pace my body was comfortable with. I listened to my breathing and form. I’m especially glad that I kept my AirPods away — letting myself be present to the symphony of the crowd’s cheers, the cowbells, the DJ tents. It really is a moving block party, an electric celebration of New York City. My Apple Watch somehow died at mile 19, and I ran the rest of the race on feel.
At mile 20, I smiled. The last 6 miles started to get painful, but I picked up my pace knowing that the finish line was in reach. I felt pure adrenaline for the final 400 meters and pushed myself to max effort. When I found my pace chart after finishing, I was surprised and proud to see my near perfect negative splits for the whole race.
Race day is really a celebration of the work and training you put your body through for months prior. We often hear that line “it’s a marathon not a sprint” as a reminder to pace yourself. After training and running the marathon, the platitude took on its full meaning: it’s just as important to celebrate each step you take.
I find many analogies between sports and life. During my sophomore year in college, I dabbled in the whitewater kayaking club. I remember going on my first paddle trip on the Deerfield River in Western Massachusetts. I’d been on guided raft trips many times before, but being in a solo kayak is a whole different game. Rafting is like driving an SUV. Kayaking is like driving a go-kart. It’s a lot less stable, but you feel more connected to the flow of the river. The first thing that they tell you as a beginner is — do not fight the river.
The swift current is so much more powerful that you. If you try to fight against the river, you’ll flip and capsize (I learned this the hard way). So what do you do? Read the river. Feel the moving water under you. Look for rocks. Observe how whitewater flows around those rocks. Paddle to position your kayak to ride the current downstream.
It’s like life - there are many forces beyond your control, you just have to observe and make decisions to align yourself towards where you want to go.
I first experienced the New York City Marathon from watching Casey Neistat’s vlogs as a teenager. Casey’s videos with bits and pieces of life philosophy and a spirit for adventure shaped my teenage self. So it was poetic to me when Casey made a video last week titled DO HARD THINGS, telling his story of running the 2024 NYC Marathon and finally achieving his sub 3 hour goal after 8 previous attempts.
He talks about how Newton’s 3rd law applies to life — when we do a hard thing, there is some equal and opposite good reaction. You go to school, you get smarter. You work, you get paid. But these kinds of hard things (the marathon) — they make you feel good, you're healthier, you enjoy doing them — it's a little harder to define what you get out of them.
At the end of the video, he offers his answer for what you get from running a marathon.
So what’s this? What is it? I guess it’s that feeling that’s only accessible through hard work. That momentary feeling you chase your entire life. It’s one of life’s great things. And it’s a great thing you only get if you do a really hard thing.
I think we’re talking about the same feeling — the feeling of being alive.
What makes you feel alive?
I stumbled across this letter that Jackson Pollock’s father wrote to his 16 year old son in 1928:
Well Jack I was glad to learn how you felt about your summer’s work & your coming school year. The secret of success is concentrating interest in life, interest in sports and good times, interest in your studies, interest in your fellow students, interest in the small things of nature, insects, birds, flowers, leaves, etc. In other words to be fully awake to everything about you & the more you learn the more you can appreciate & get a full measure of joy & happiness out of life.
From American Letters: 1927-1947, Jackson Pollock & Family
I’m grateful for my friends and family’s contributions to my NYRR Team for Climate fundraiser that gave me the opportunity to run this year’s marathon. Thank you to my parents, my sister, Jenn, Aakash, Daniel L, Daniel E, Ashley, Justin, Samir, Bri, Chelsy, Carrie, Connor, Kenny, Rohan, Pat, Luke, Brendan, Kevin, James, Neel, Nathalie, Shohini, and Michael
Spencer Yen
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