Antonette trains at November Project San Diego. She’s in love with her dog and her boyfriend and her job and knows tons of the history of this sunny city. If you ever join “NPSD” on a Monday or a Wednesday morning you’ll meet her. She’s upbeat and funny and acts like she’s been a member of November Project for 5 years or 5 minutes at the same time. Her trek across the USA to get to the NP Summit last weekend was partially about the gathering, but was driven by a race, a marathon to be exact. Without giving too much away, I’m proud to introduce to you, Antonette Hrycyk.
I still, most of the time, don’t consider myself a runner. Even though I tell my 8th grade students almost every day to be confident in their abilities, even though I just completed one of the most difficult marathons on trail last weekend, even though the vast majority of my social life in San Diego stems from running, I still have a hard time believing it. But it’s true. And I owe everything – my happiness, my confidence, my running – to November Project.
I was always an active person but never a runner before I begrudgingly moved back to San Diego just over two years ago. I grew up on acres of woods in Western PA, swam varsity in high school, qualified for tournaments playing on the men’s golf team (thanks, Title IX),kept most of the beer weight off throughout college (Go Buckeyes), and got a job getting kids outdoors as an outdoor educator and graduate student in Colorado. But I wasn’t a runner. I was the asshole that walked a mile during gym class during the Presidential Fitness test – partly because I was an angry white girl and partly because running was hard for me.
I only started “running” when I moved back to San Diego after my partner had found his dream job and his brother had passed away. We wanted to be close to his family and I, for the first time in my life, made a decision based on my partner’s life and career. I figured if I was going to live somewhere beautiful, I should spend some time outside.
I hated San Diego. Here I was, fresh out of grad school, unemployed, and had moved to a new city for a guy. Ugh. At least I had running and had a goal of a 10k around Halloween. I was drinking WAY too much, resenting my partner’s dream job, and missing all of my friends in Colorado. A friend from college (shout out to James!) was doing this stupid thing in LA called November Project and wanted me to do the San Diego version. Whatever. He texted me one night, telling me that he had told a San Diego leader (my now close friend Angelo) that I would show up the next day. I showed up, and couldn’t run the entire hill we were working out around. I walked. A lot.
But I loved it.
Fast forward. I ran three half marathons, dealt with a semi-major hip injury, fell in love with teaching middle school, made friends, restored my relationship with my dude, and traveled from San Francisco with my tribe to run my very first trail race at the North Face Endurance Challenge – it had all clicked. The race was so welcoming and the energy was encouraging. I watched friends run their first 50ks and ran a relay with NPSD – my time didn’t matter there – my effort and my attitude were rewarded.
When #5ummit was announced to be in Massachusetts, I texted a friend from NPSD that I had the bonkers idea of signing up for the marathon. He texted me back a photo of a registration for a full Ironman – the gauntlet was thrown down. I finished my registration while my students were working on a project based on To Kill A Mockingbird.
I wanted to run a marathon before 30 – why not run it with a few hundred tribe members? To be perfectly honest, I also wanted a trail race because I could walk most of it. I was going to conquer my anxiety and depression, prove to my high school self that I could do this, and accomplish what seemed to be an impossible goal. I got a run coach – former NPSD leader LP – and found a way to balance training and teaching full time. I have to give kudos for my amazing boyfriend Brady (who still hasn’t come to an NP workout) for dealing with all of my 4:45 am wakeups. I’m better at not snoozing. Most of the time.
On Wachusett, I almost quit that stupid fucking race at least six times.
The first time was when I realized that the marathon went up 500 feet of scrambling twice. I had made it through the most intense cheer section (thanks for the beer, Shelby!) and realized that I was only at mile 9, though I felt like I had run 40 miles.
My shit knee from my shit hip gave out twice on the technical downhills, but I figured I’d just ice it at the end. I did not fly across the country and train for 16 weeks to have a twinge get me.
Dan Graham saved my life, or at least my race. I had never met DG before mile 16 of the race. I rolled into the aid station, a bit in front of the crew from Kansas City that got me through mile 12-14, and I hated everything. I was so embarrassed with my time and mortified that I was going to have to admit that I flew across the country to not finish a course. But DG told me – stooping slightly, to look me directly in the eye – that he had run a lot of races, and this one was “hard as shit” so he was quitting. But, if I kept running, he would be there at the end, waiting for me. I took off to some of the only runnable terrain during the race, and knew I would finish. Even if I got swept, I was going to finish running the course. A medal didn’t matter worth a shit – I came here to run 26.2 miles, and I was going to run it, and I was going to be greeted with some of my best friends and complete strangers. Plus, there’d be an amazing party afterwards.
I ran in to each aid station begging the smiling volunteers and staff to not sweep me – I knew I could finish. I felt confident and supported by the crew out there, especially after telling them it was my first marathon. I saw a fellow tribe member – Tom Dorio – with half a mile to go. He ran me in, and had been texting my mom the entire time, who was worried sick about me. He let me finish solo, however, knowing how much this race meant to me. I didn’t care if I was last – I was finishing. I was swarmed by my tribe when I finished – at least ten people from San Diego had stayed and greeted me with an ice cold Yuengling. The party was icing on the cake. And honestly, it wasn’t about the marathon. It’s about the people, the community, the sense that I am a part of something greater than myself. I’m a proud Buckeye alum, but I consider myself a member of November Project first.
There are a lot of stories I could tell about November Project. I can talk about how it’s made me a better teacher, a better partner, helped me deal with my anxiety and depression, helped me develop civic pride, but I think the story of the marathon at #5ummit is the best encapsulation of what this community means to me. I’m finally comfortable calling myself a runner after the Marathon at Summit, thanks to my tribe(s), North Face, and November Project. 
Did you go to New Wilmington Schools?
I saw you on Jeopardy 11/25/2020.
I used to live in Shenango Twp.