As the sun rose over Dodger Stadium, casting a soft glow on the cotton candy clouds, I shifted nervously from foot to foot. Despite battling the tail end of a nasty head cold and surviving on just an hour of sleep after a restless night, I found myself in the 3-hour 50-minute pace group. Feeling out of place among seasoned runners, I was determined to prove myself.
Mentally, I had already dedicated the race to two of the toughest people I knew, whose incredible achievements made my task seem minor. The first was my best friend’s mother, a marathon legend who defied a Stage 4 lung cancer diagnosis to live five more years, completing multiple Ironman races and hiking over 500 miles of the Camino de Santiago. Inspired by her legacy, I signed up for the marathon shortly after her funeral.
My dad, Paul Harter, was another source of motivation, a brilliant lawyer, bodybuilder, and fitness entrepreneur, who now battles a rare neurological disorder with astounding tenacity. As his motor functions decline, he faces each day with a determination that left me in awe. His perseverance reminded me that my challenge, though daunting, was manageable.
The first few miles felt exhilarating as I ran through the streets of Los Angeles, energized by the sight of my friends cheering me on. The city’s iconic landmarks and the supportive atmosphere made the experience unforgettable. However, by mile six, reality set in as stomach pains struck, likely due to pre-race nerves and sugary electrolyte drinks.
Despite the discomfort, I refused to let it slow me down. My boyfriend, Jordan Parker, appeared just in time with much-needed Tums, providing a moment of relief. I pushed through the pain, drawing strength from the memory of a legacy runner’s advice to keep smiling and stay hydrated.
Clara Harter, Southern California News Group reporter, interviews legacy runner Paul Brestyanszky as Paul’s wife, Mila Cangelosi listens on Friday, March 15 prior to the 39th Los Angeles Marathon on Sunday, March 17, 2024. (Photo by Dean Musgrove, Los Angeles Daily News/SCNG)
As the race continued, I marveled at the car-free streets of Los Angeles and felt a twinge of sadness for the city’s usual pedestrian-unfriendly nature. By mile 18, the electric atmosphere and support from fellow runners and spectators kept me going. Each high five and cheer fueled my determination, even as my body began to protest.
The final miles were grueling, but thoughts of my dad and best friend’s mother kept me moving forward. At mile 25, my pace group leader appeared to encourage me, a testament to the marathon’s supportive community. Crossing the finish line at three hours, fifty minutes, and thirty-seven seconds, I felt a profound sense of accomplishment and eagerly anticipated running again next year.