J Solle’s 26.2 Miles of Pride at the 2025 TCS New York City Marathon

J with Jacob Caswell and Daniel Mata at the TCS New York City Marathon finish.

J Solle (they/them) is director of the Front Runners New York LGBT Pride Run and a member of the NYRR Contributors Circle, established to create a meaningful connection with, and dedicated spotlight on, diverse communities and important societal initiatives within the running community.

As I walked out into the corral, I stared at the top of the Verrazzano Bridge. This was about to be my fourth TCS New York City Marathon and I’d never run on the top level before. My partner, Jake, and one of my best friends and teammates who I had been coaching to their second-ever marathon, Pat, were starting on the bottom level of the bridge. I thought about both of them and envisioned them on the bridge below me, and I felt alone yet excited as I walked up to the start line. This was going to be a big race for me, my target for the season, and I was hoping to PR—and yet, I knew how hard it would be on this course. The gun went off, my legs took me up the start of the slope onto the bridge, and we were off for what would be my hardest 26.2 miles yet.

The Front Runners Community

Six weeks before the race, my mid-September training had been going well. Nineteen miles into a long training run, my body was starting to fatigue and I started to push a bit harder for that last mile or two. My legs felt like concrete, and as I tried to maneuver around the crowded pathway on the Hudson, my foot caught a divot. I went down hard. My hands and knees were bleeding, my ears were ringing, and I saw white. A stranger reached down to help pick me up.

In tears, I called Jake, who was finishing their own training run, reaching out for a bit of comfort. Despite the sting, the fastest way home was to continue to jog. Jake gave me a hug as soon as I was home, and relief filled my body. They reassured me that I’d be ok, that my training wouldn’t be affected, and I knew that I’d be stronger from this moment. Next, I called Pat, a physician assistant, who helped calm my nerves about how bad the swelling would be. I felt deeply thankful for my people, who I wouldn’t have had near me without my running club, Front Runners New York.

The marathon is not only one of my favorite days of the year, but a huge moment for Front Runners, the largest LGBTQIA+ running club in the world. Hundreds of Front Runners train for the marathon every year, and it’s a homecoming weekend for the club. Those who aren’t running are cheering, volunteering at our events, and helping make sure the club has a successful weekend. Most Wednesday nights and Saturday mornings, Jake, Pat, and I met with friends at weekly runs to get our training miles in. We all run at different paces, but we'd start and often end our training days together to share the experience.

I had coached Pat through their first marathon in New York in 2024, which was one of their first races in the nonbinary division, and now they were back to run the marathon again this year. Pat knew what to expect from our time training together and I knew how to help them succeed. Pat dedicated themself fully to their training this block, working 12-hour shifts in the hospital and then often getting a run in late at night. I asked them what this training block was like for them.

“It proved to me that I’m a lot stronger than I think I am,” they said. “I learned a lot of discipline, pride, and community.”

Pat and I would talk about their runs every day. When they struggled, I encouraged them that this was part of the process, that one tough day didn’t define them. When they had a great day, we used it as an opportunity to reflect on their strength.

“I think when you finish your long run, you are at the top of a mountain. And at that point, I could look down at where I started and feel such pride and appreciation,” they said. “The marathon feels like tangible proof that I was going to do this, and I could.”

An Emotional Race Day

As I started down the crest of the Verrazzano Bridge and thought back to the training, and my fall. It slowed my training for a few days, but I knew it had made me tougher. I thought about training with Jake, and preparing for the day with Pat, and the rest of my Front Runners team. I reminded myself that I could do this, despite my nerves, and asked myself what I’d remind Pat or Jake of at this moment.

My eyes stung a bit taking in the moment on the top of the bridge before I became calculated, looked at my watch, and lightened my step on the long downhill. The crowds were electric as I entered the heart of Brooklyn, and I tried to carry their energy with me and rely on my training. I knew that thinking about my team would keep me in good spirits. And I struggled harder than I anticipated, pushing myself through a level of discomfort I hadn’t experienced in any of my previous seven marathons.

I approached the finish line flooded with emotions. The tears started as the incredible New York Road Runners team met me and shared that I’d finished third in the nonbinary division. I immediately asked how Jake placed—second! I was handed a medal, and found Jake, who wrapped me in a huge hug. I whipped out my phone to see how my teammates did, especially Pat, who was close to finishing—they had executed our plan perfectly. I felt disappointment that I had not met my goal, but immense pride for Jake, for Pat, and for myself in pushing through a tough day.


J with NYRR's Christine Burke at the TCS New York City Marathon finish. 

I felt like I was in a dream. The thing you train months for, through pain and triumph, was done. I was overwhelmed by the mix of emotions. I felt exposed and raw, and yet so incredibly thankful for the support of my people. Jake held my hand as we exited the park together, and I felt comforted.

I needed to check in on how Pat was doing. When I saw on my phone that they ran a negative split race, I cried again—just like we planned! I felt a totally new wave of emotion flood me. Pat and I talked every day before the race about trusting themselves and their training, and they’d done it! They had worried about their goals, and I reassured them that they were as strong as they’d felt after a good training run. They improved their race by over 16 minutes from last year, and it wiped away the sting from my own race.

“I’d been struggling feeling as though my place racing wasn’t as deserved or I didn’t belong,” Pat said. “But running that race, hearing people cheering for me, it showed me that we do deserve to race as ourselves and I did belong here.”


J with Pat after the TCS New York City Marathon.

To me, this is the meaning of the marathon and getting to do it surrounded by my people and my Front Runners team. When we know who we are, and we are able to present ourselves authentically in a race, we can toe the line free of doubts about ourselves.

No matter the result of the race, I felt so thankful that we got to race together. Having the opportunity to share this race with my team, with Pat as they trained, and with Jake on the nonbinary podium, makes me feel deep pride, immense joy, and happiness, and I can’t wait for the opportunity to do it all again. 

Photo provided by MarathonFoto.