Hellen Obiri finished her debut NYC Marathon in agony. She returned to make history New York Times (Online) George Ramsay The final miles of Hellen Obiri's first marathon passed in a dizzying, exhausted blur. She had spent much of the race at the front of it, sticking stubbornly with the lead pack before her legs refused to cooperate. Her energy gone and her challenge rapidly fading, Obiri's only choice was to hang on for the mercy of the finish line, her rivals disappearing in the distance. “I started feeling like my body doesn't want to go, my body doesn't want to move,” Obiri tells The Athletic about her marathon debut in New York four years ago. “From about 24 miles, I didn't see where I was going; I was just going.” Obiri is one of the world's most decorated distance runners, boasting multiple Olympic and world championship medals. But what she experienced on the streets of New York City was the same painful unraveling so many other runners go through in their darkest moments — one minute you feel fine; then, seemingly out of nowhere, you stall. It was a humbling moment for a runner looking to enhance her distance-running credentials, graduating from the track to the guts and glory of the marathon. Perhaps this was a bridge too far, a career step in the wrong direction. Those questions played on Obiri's mind as she crossed the finish line in sixth place in New York, nearly two and a half minutes behind race winner Sharon Lokedi. After pushing her body into a new realm of suffering, she had to be helped away from the course in a wheelchair. “At the finish line I was saying: If this is a marathon, I need to stop,” says Obiri. “Some people are telling me the marathon is tough — and the marathon is tough. I didn't know what I would do next. And then I told myself, now I'm a marathoner, how can I go back to the track? I don't have track speed anymore. The track is getting tough.” Amid an unfolding crisis of confidence, Obiri revisited the advice she had received before racing in New York. An undulating course with a hilly finish and unpredictable weather conditions, it is arguably the hardest of the world's major marathons — and she had picked it for her debut. “So many people discouraged me,” recalls the 36-year-old. “They were saying, 'Why are you starting in New York? You know New York is the hardest course. Why?' And I was like, oh my goodness, what have I done?” The soul-searching would go on, but eventually Obiri resolved not to return to the tried-and-tested safety of racing on the track. Her thinking? “Everybody has a second chance. I said to myself: I need to have a second chance.” Obiri's redemption was swift and satisfying. She won the Boston Marathon the following year, then returned to New York seven months later and won there, too, triumphing in a slow, tactical race through the city's five boroughs. In 34 years, no woman had won the Boston and New York marathons in the same calendar year. But in the space of 12 months, guided by her past mistakes, Obiri had started to master the punishing art of marathon running. One takeaway from her toiling debut in New York was to improve her hydration strategy, and another was to stay patient. Much of Obiri's training in recent years has been geared towards the final part of the race, running mile or 400-meter reps on a track to sharpen her speed in the closing stages. That approach has paid off in Obiri's two victories in New York. In last year's race, she outkicked fellow Kenyan Lokedi in spectacular fashion to finish in two hours, 19 minutes and 51 seconds — more than two minutes faster than Margaret Okayo's course record from 2003. “At 24 miles, that's where the marathon started,” Obiri said about her victory last year. “I had that in mind because I've raced with those ladies and I knew they wanted to make the move at maybe 25 miles or 24 miles. “So we had trained for the last mile. How can I out-sprint them? We had to do so many reps of the track… In a marathon, sometimes you feel your body wants to go. So I always control my body. I say to my body: no, wait until the right moment. “I try to save everything I can. I try to save my mind, my legs to give me energy for the last mile of the race.” On Sunday, Obiri will race the New York City Marathon for the fifth time. Another victory would see her become only the fourth woman to win three titles — though her previous successes, the Kenyan concedes, bring added pressure. “When you are a defending champion and a course record-holder, everybody is looking at you, everybody's looking at what you can give,” says Obiri. “Most people, they want you to win the race and maybe to run faster than last year. So for me, I have some nerves. How am I going to do it?” Despite the added anxiety, Obiri loves racing in New York. The up-and-down nature of the course plays to her strengths and, as far as possible, allows her to compete on her own terms, rather than become preoccupied with chasing a certain time. Unlike Berlin or London, there are no pacemakers in New York, and the chances of even getting close to the world record are remote. “If your time counts (for something), it's a bonus,” says Obiri. “But for me, I'm going there to win my title first of all.” Obiri is a member of On Athletics Club and trains primarily out of Boulder, Colorado. She had an ankle injury in July and August, but fully recovered in time to devote 10 weeks of hard training to her New York preparation, logging around 110 miles per week. Her results so far this year have been promising — a victory and course record at the NYC Half in March followed by a second-place finish at the London Marathon a month later. In London, Obiri broke with her tradition of only running tough, hilly marathon courses to finish with a sizable personal best of 2:15:53 — only 12 seconds behind Ethiopia's Tigst Assefa, whose victory set a women's-only world record. But Obiri will be back on familiar ground next  Sunday, at a race where she has faced pain, glory and existential questions about the direction of her career. The advice she ultimately heeded four years ago could motivate any runner grappling with disappointment on the streets of New York next Sunday: “Don't lose hope — just keep on trying.” For Obiri, it has provided a winning formula.