At any given time in New York City’s Central Park, people are running. Some call themselves runners, others don’t. Their motivations range from targeting a new personal record to simply taking a mental break. Some are pacing fast, others are taking it slow. Different and diverse as the undefinable city they live in, they all have one thing in common—they are running their way.
In partnership with New Balance, Runner’s World is spotlighting athletes who run the famous park and what those outings mean to them. Each specifically speaks about how running in this iconic space gives them the opportunity to reflect on their lives. Below, Jessica LeBron shares how Central Park led her to start running—and never stop. Explore more inspiring Beyond the Run stories here.
I started running as a joke—sort of. My first career was in media, and my colleagues would always joke about headlines highlighting celebrities running their first marathons. A bunch of us were looking at their finish times in the tabloids and thinking, “We could do better than that.” That planted a seed that maybe I could run a marathon one day—and show these celebrities how fast I was!
Thinking about running and actually running are very different things. Shortly after those initially lighthearted thoughts of tackling a marathon, my family had a major crisis. Frightening moments have a way of making you feel immobile, yet I knew I needed to stay in motion. I was a single mom, and I wanted to prove that we could get through whatever life was going to throw our way. I just began running every single day. Mind you, I was not an athlete. I rarely worked out. But I felt that my daughter needed to see me do something different, something audacious.
Showing her that we had the strength to push through difficulties meant that I had to allow her to see me struggle. And she definitely did! She saw that I couldn’t run. At the time, we were living in the Bronx. I’d do one lap around the track near my home and then walk the next. She saw the whole journey. There were moments where I found myself thinking: “I don’t know how I’m going to make it.” But when you put in the work, good things happen. My stamina grew. I stopped walking my laps. Slowly, I went from one mile around the track to two miles to three miles. And then when you run consecutively for three miles, you’re like, “Oh, okay, let’s push for four.”
After a while, I had built up my ability enough to enter a competition. I ran my first race in Central Park. It was a 10k and my only goal was not to stop. I remember seeing two older ladies running together ahead of me at a nice little pace. It was so sweet, I stayed behind them and let them guide me for a while. Watching them, I thought about how much I wanted someone by my side while I was racing.
But then I realized that I did have someone by my side. I had many people. I had my daughter and my friends and all of the other runners in Central Park. The space we shared was supporting me. When I made it to the finish line, my first sight was my friends from the park cheering for me. Finishing that race was such an amazing feeling.
I started marathon training in 2008. Each week brought a new goal. A new distance to train for the 26.2 miles. I was pushing myself, and my daughter was with me every step of the way. On a lot of these runs, I’d break down and start to cry. My frustration and anger would pour out. I’d get lost in Central Park. It was healthy, because that pent-up energy needed to find a space to release. Running became a foundational part of our lives.
Central Park remained my running home base. My friends came to the park to run with me or cheer me on. My family decided to start racing, too. One Mother’s Day, my mom ran a four-mile race there. She kept referring to it like, “Yeah, the marathon, you know, the marathon...” I was like, “Okay, mom, it’s four miles.” And that just goes to show you that everyone has their own marathon, right? It doesn’t have to be 26.2 miles. The distance barely matters. Whatever your marathon is, that’s for you to figure out.
Now, I look around the park and see different running communities that have evolved. It’s beautiful to see so many Black runners, people of color, women, coming out and cheering each other on. Fifteen years ago it wasn’t like this. Being part of these different communities that have grown and continued to grow has been really nice. Now I know Central Park like the back of my hand. I’m not getting lost anymore.
It makes me so happy to see where my daughter is now. She’s twenty-eight years old and has excelled in her life. I think seeing me struggle at the beginning of running helped teach her how to handle challenges—be they self-imposed or out of our control. There’s always going to be something. There’s always going to be some type of marathon that you have to push through. But we know that whatever happens, we’ll get through it as a family.
I can't believe that I'm still running fifteen years later. I've had three knee surgeries and I’m still going strong. After that first race, I continued training and became a full-fledged marathoner. I was running in Central Park the other day and had a powerful moment of reflection. It hit me all at once: where I started, where I am, and where I’m going. What started as a struggle to make it around the track in the Bronx has turned into a life of running marathons around the world.
Running is a huge part of my mental health. The further I go on this journey, the more I realize that the space I ultimately want to be in is one of wellness. I’m special education teacher, a yoga instructor, and a floral designer. Running allows me time to restore my own energy in order to be of service to other people. This sport has taught me the value of pushing through the difficult times, setting a strong example for others, and working through your fears instead of suppressing them. That’s why I’m still out there every day. And I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.
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